


Paint by Numbers

by JunkFood



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:23:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunkFood/pseuds/JunkFood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl Dixon is the darling of the New York art scene- until one truly awful gallery showing later and he’s suddenly not.  He concludes he needs a change of scenery and so packs up and tries to rediscover his roots and reclaim his artistic mojo in his native BFE Georgia.  Becoming the Grimes’ family’s Mary Poppins wasn’t even remotely part of his plan but, as Daryl learns, sometimes you have to help others in order to help yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Squirrely

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work of fiction, fan or otherwise, and my reach likely exceeded my grasp. The majority of this fic was plotted after watching Seasons 1 and 2 although, since I can’t resist spoilers, I already knew much of what would happen in later seasons. Nonetheless, this fic most likely reflects the spirit of those two seasons and I wrote this to reward myself for slogging through Season 2 (like Andrea, I almost didn’t survive). I did my best with the regional dialect, which was extremely difficult for me, and although this fic is very AU, I did my best to honor the spirit of the characters.
> 
> I love AU’s that depart significantly from the source material while still keeping the main characters personality traits intact, so my next contribution to this genre will be a fic about ex-hedge fund manager and addict Rick Grimes moving back to small-town Georgia x Al-anon group leader Daryl Dixon and the obligatory police AU featuring Vice Cop Rick x drug dealer’s errand boy Daryl. I’m also plotting an aid worker Aaron x solider Daryl fic. 
> 
> This fic is almost complete and will be updated on a weekly basis. All mistakes are my own and none of these characters belong to me.

_Ugly?_

_No worse- boring._

_Uninspired crap. The neighbor’s kid, what was his name? Carl? Carl could do better than this._

These were the thoughts running through his mind as he surveyed his latest canvas, a failed brown-red mess, his latest attempt to artistically translate his feelings, had he had any. He briefly considered going back to bed but since he had just forced himself to get up not even one hour earlier he firmly resisted the urge. He hoped he could stay out of bed for at least 3 hours- heck, that would be a record for him these days. Daryl Dixon, pseudonym Murphy MacManus (or MMM, as he signed his works), darling of the New York City art scene, was depressed and suffering from the first creative block of his career. MMM was known for his visceral style, unpleasant themes, and masterful use of shadow. Daryl, on the other hand, just wanted to go back to bed and stay there until the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

_Looks like a Rorschach ink blot. Or maybe a Pollack painting, but even crappier. Squirrel road kill?_ He briefly entertained the thought of doing a series on road kill he had encountered in the Georgian countryside. _Wonder what my agent would think about that? Bet it would go over well with the New York jet set and animal rights activists._

It wasn’t always this way of course. There had been a time when he’d been invited to all of the important parties (not that he attended), fashion runway shows (not that he attended those either), and even the Met Gala (he went once and left promptly after dessert). But that was over 2 years ago. This past year everything he thought he knew about himself had been turned upside down. Daryl had always thought artist’s block was an excuse. Now he knew better.

As he was contemplating his latest canvased disaster, a shrill, feminine, but mostly shrill, voice came from outside and interrupted his dark thoughts.

“Carl! Carl, where are you sweetie? C’mon inside, it’s time for dinner,” said aforementioned owner of the shrill, nagging voice.

“Coming Mom!” responded Carl. Daryl looked out the window and saw the neighbor’s kid fiddling with his bicycle.

_Time for dinner?_ Shit, it was almost 6pm and he hadn’t done much except for sleep and stare like a denied lover at his paints.

He took one final look at _Squirrely, Road Kill Pt 1,_ put his motorcycle jacket on and went out into the humid night air.

____________

Lori Grimes, home economist and CFO of the Grimes family, was putting the final touches on dinner when she heard the start of her neighbor’s motorcycle. When she and Rick had purchased this home three months earlier to accommodate their growing family, no one had lived in the back house. They were told by their realtor that the occupant had recently died and that his brother living in New York had taken over the property. Both she and Rick had made an offer on the front house assuming that the brother would simply sell his piece of land, hopefully to them. Unlike the front house which had been purchased during the recent conomic downturn by a real estate developer and completely renovated by the time Lori and Rick had made an offer, the back house was falling apart and looked to be in violation of several building codes. Never in her wildest imagining did she think that this absent stranger would move into his late brother’s home. And her imagination, though quite vivid, did not adequately prepare her for the enigma that was Daryl Dixon.

He was about the same height as her husband, though a little broader in the shoulders, and looked to be the very definition of white trash. Or, more specifically, redneck biker trash. As she watched him continue to rev the motorcycle’s engine, she noticed that the blonde highlights in his hair were growing out turning his hair into a dark brown greasy mess. It had been about two months since he had moved into the tiny shack and most days she wouldn’t have known he was home unless his bike was parked out front. He kept to himself mostly and that would have been fine with her except that his very existence jeopardized her, well, _extracurricular activities._ She was the one who had pushed for a larger house, at the end of a cul-de-sac, and with no neighbors. The back house was an oversight on her part. She had been too confident, too sure that she and Rick would have been able to purchase it eventually. And Lori Grimes was a woman who always got what she wanted.

_______________

“Kill, fuck, or marry?” asked Deputy Shane Walsh.

“Huh what? Not sure I follow”, responded his partner Deputy Rick Grimes. They had the 3pm to midnight shift that day and were currently consuming a dinner of hamburgers and fries in their patrol car.

“C’mon, you don’t know this game?” asked Shane, in between his obscene and vaguely pornographic consumption of French fries and ketchup. “We were just discussin’ _Frozen._ Who would you kill, fuck, or marry?”

“Hmmm…..” part of Rick couldn’t believe that this is what constituted an adult conversation for him these days. Shane had come over last Sunday for dinner and Carl, though technically not the film’s targeted demographic, insisted that Shane watch _Frozen_ with him. “Well, I suppose I would kill Hans, fuck Elsa, and marry Kristoff.”

“Really? I would not have thought that.” Shane finished performing fellatio on his ketchup-stained fingers. “I mean, I figured you bein’ a goody two shoes and all that you would kill Hans, and who in this country doesn’t want to fuck Elsa, but marry Kristoff?”

“Kristoff’s a lone wolf. Totally independent, can take care of himself but wants to take care of others. He just needs a hug, and I want to be the one to give it to him. What about you?”

“Me?” laughed Shane. “I’d fuck them all. No killing, definitely no marryin’.”

“Don’t ever change Shane, don’t ever change…” Rick muttered.

**_*Beep* *Dispatch to Unit 134* *Over*_ **

Rick grabbed the radio and responded, “This is Unit 134. What is the emergency? Over.”

**Complaint is of a 10-26 at “The Office” over on Main Street. Owner called in and said a bar fight is getting out of hand. Over.**

“Ok Dispatch, we’ll check it out. Over and out.” Rick started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot of the burger joint where he and Shane had grabbed dinner.

“I bet you a coffee that it’s an out-of-towner,” Shane commented.

“I bet you are right,” responded Rick. It wasn’t even 8pm and it was a Thursday- hardly the witching hour for gang bangers and meth dealers.

____________

_The Office_ was in fact a yuppie “dive bar” patronized by King County’s regularly upstanding citizens by day and cosplay bikers by night. Ever since _Sons of Anarchy_ appeared on cable, both this bar and the local Harley Davidson bike shop had been doing a fantastic amount of business. It was very rare that a 911 call was made. As Rick approached the rotund proprietor, Uncle Bobby, he figured some out-of-town business man started a fight so he could look tough in front of his date.  

“Heya Rick, thanks for responding so quick.” Bobby looked nervous and ill-at ease.

“Not a problem Bobby. Can you tell us what the situation is inside?” Rick didn’t hear any commotion coming from the bar and figured this was a “clean up” job where he arrested folks for “drunk and disorderly conduct” and threw them in the drunk tank for the evening, courtesy of the King County Sherriff’s department.

“If you could go easy on the young man Rick, I would appreciate it. He was just defending a woman’s honor.” Bobby looked between Rick and Shane.

Shane replied, “Sure Bobby. Just tell us what happened and who was involved. Me an’ Rick’ll straighten this whole mess out for ya.”

“Ed Peletier came here tonight with his new squeeze.”

_Crap, so that was why Bobby was so nervous_. Last time Shane had a run-in with Ed, in the back alley of _The Office_ of all places, Ed limped away with a sprained ankle, a bloodied nose and threats of police brutality against the department. Rick was able to talk him out of it, but it was a close call. The whole damn community knew about Ed and he had no friends, but the last thing Rick needed tonight was a repeat of Shane doing his very best to bash Ed’s face in.

“Go on,” Rick said encouragingly to Bobby, while keeping a weather eye on Shane.

“He was playing pool with some guys and sent his gal to get him a drink. I guess the drink was wrong or he didn’t like how she served it to him ‘cause Ed slapped her. Hard. Started calling her foul names. Then some stranger shows up. I think he’s an out-of-towner ‘cause I ain’t never seen him before. He did some kind of kung fu arm twisty thing on Ed. Ed was screamin’ threats at him, but this guy held him down like he was nothin’. Guy can’t weigh much more than you Rick, but I think he dislocated Ed’s shoulder. Guys playing pool with Ed decide to get in on the fight and that’s when I called 911.”

Rick glanced at Shane. Shane didn’t look murderous, yet. “You did the right thing Bobby. On account of me not hearing windows bein’ busted, can I assume the guy split?”

“Nah, he’s at the bar on his second bottle of whiskey. On the house of course. He took out Ed and the guys Ed was with all by himself. He’s one hell of a fighter. I ain’t never seen a guy take out 5 guys with a pool stick but he did. Place cleared out ‘fore too long and most other folks went home when they heard the police sirens. Hell man, it’s Thursday night! Folks gotta go to work tomorrow.”

Rick looked at Shane. Shane looked bored. It was officially OK to proceed. “Alright Bobby, we’ll talk to Superman in there and see if we can’t chalk this up to some kind of misunderstanding.”

“Thanks Rick. I’d appreciate that. Ed got what he deserved and then some.”

And wasn’t that the truth? Rick abhorred domestic violence, couldn’t stand it when boyfriends hit girlfriends, or vice versa, or even when girlfriends hit girlfriends and boyfriends beat boyfriends. In these enlightened, modern times, one could marry the same sex but problems that plagued heterosexual relationships seemed to carry over into homosexual ones. People were people, regardless of their orientation.

Rick and Shane entered the smoky and trashed establishment. Smoking in public was still legal in Georgia but probably would not remain so for much longer. Pool balls and broken pool cues were strewn along the floor. A prominent dart board near the restroom was conspicuously missing all of its darts. A solitary man in a biker vest with angel wings was seated at the bar, pouring himself shots with religious devotion.

Shane approached the man first. “Hey there fella, heard there was some trouble here tonight.”   Rick was trying, and failing, to locate any of the aforementioned darts.  

“There was,” responded the stranger gruffly. His voice sounded gravely, almost as if he had been choked.

“Well, we were called out here and I need to file a report. Uncle Bobby, owner of this establishment, doesn’t want to press charges but we still need to know what happened. In the interest of public safety. You understand.” Shane looked extremely bored since it became evident that he would not get a repeat chance at bashing Ed Peletier’s face in.

“Public safety?” the stranger ground out. “You ain’t interested in public safety. If you were, assholes like that guy would be taken out back and shot dead.”

It was time for Rick to interject. “Sir, be that as it may, I have one suspect – that would be you, zero darts, and a trashed establishment to account for to headquarters. You want to paint a picture of what happened here tonight or shall we take this down to the station?”

The stranger tensed at Rick’s voice, considered the poured drink in hand, and consumed it with extreme prejudice. “Paint a picture? Yer a funny one Officer Grimes. Downright hilarious.” The stranger turned towards Rick, light illuminating his face.

_Ah crap, and it was shaping up to be a fairly entertaining night_. It would not be real neighborly of him to drag his new neighbor, Daryl Dixon, down to the station.

Rick pulled Shane aside and muttered, “Hey man, this is the guy that’s in my back house.”

“The painter?” asked Shane incredulously and loudly. “The one with no rap sheet but you’re still pretty sure is running his brother’s meth empire?”

“Shhshh” hissed Rick. _Goddamit Shane could be thick!_ “Let me handle this. Raise Michonne on the radio and get her to pick you up. I’m going to take him home before this gets even more out of hand.”

“Why you doin’ this guy any favors Rick? For all we know he could have started this noise!”

Rick looked at Shane. Shane stared back. Rick summoned the spirit of his mother and looked at Shane real disappointed-like. That seemed to do the trick and Shane visibly backed down.

“I’ll go call Michonne.” And so Rick was left with Daryl, patron-saint of abused women and sloppy drunks.

_____________

The jukebox was back on, playing _Hotel California_ of all things. Rick had never been to California, heck the only state outside of Georgia he’d ever visited was Florida and that was to his grandparent’s place on the beach when they’d been alive. After cleaning up, Uncle Bobby had sent the staff home and was currently cloistered in his office watching a taped boxing match. He told Rick and Daryl to take as much time as they needed as he had to do his books anyhow.

Daryl drunkenly poured another shot and offered it to Rick.

“Thanks but no thanks. I’m still on duty.”

“Suit yerself.”

Rick looked at the empty shot glasses, the half-full bottle of whiskey, and then at Daryl. “Ummm…so how many is that tonight?”

“Not enuf.”

Hmmm…ok. “So what happened here tonight?”

Daryl lit a cigarette and started to blow smoke rings, much to Rick’s amazement. “I imagine it went down as you would expect such a thing to go down.”

“Humor me.”

“M’kay. Lemme think.” Daryl exaggeratedly tapped his fingers against his forehead. “Fat asshole slaps his old lady for fuckin’ up his drink or some such bullshit. He’s calling her a hooker and a whore….I go up and tell him that’s redundant. Damn fool doesn’t know the meaning of redundant so I tell him to look it up in the dictionary. Re- _dundant_. Then I tell him that if he hits her again his ass will meet the floor. So he gets all up in my face and then….”

“And then?”

“Hhhnn…don’t recall.” Daryl was fairly inebriated at this point, slurring his words and weaving back and forth in his chair.

“Perhaps it involved darts?” Rick prompted.

Daryl sat straight up. “Yes! It did! How did ya know?”

“Well, I have an APB out for darts. I wanna make sure they make it home alright.”

Daryl slumped forward, tried to punch Rick in the shoulder and missed. “Yer funny Officer Grimes. Real funny. Alls I remember at present is takin’ exception to how Fat Asshole was treating his old lady. Don’t remember much beyond that. I came here ta drink and ta forget. Ain’t this a free country? Ain’t this country founded on such principles as the freedom to get shitfaced drunk whenever one pleases?”

This was Rick’s chance. He could finally find out what brought Daryl Dixon, a man with no warrants out for his arrest, no speeding tickets, heck no parking tickets (of course Rick checked), out all the way to backcountry Georgia to live in a decrepit shack in Rick’s backyard.

“Yes sir. I’m pretty sure our Founding Father’s made it a constitutional right for a man to get drunk in watering holes such as this whenever he pleases.”

“Damn straight. I voted for them!”

Rick smiled. “So Daryl, what did you come here to drink and forget?”

“Can’t a man grieve in peace?” asked Daryl forlornly.

“Sure, of course. Who you grieving for?” The words left Rick’s lips before he realized what he had said. The man just lost a brother, Rick knew that, and yet like an insensitive prick he pressed the issue nonetheless.

Daryl’s face fell. He looked utterly destroyed, like the saddest man on Earth, and like he might start crying at any moment. Rick felt like a jerk, like a bully for doing this to him just to satisfy his own curiosity all under the guise of “concern for his family”.

“Maybe I’m grievin’ for m’self. For the father I never knew and the brother I never had.” With an aura of finality Daryl finished his last shot and laid his head on the bar.

After calling the desk sergeant and giving a sanitized report of the night’s events with promises of a full written report the next day, Rick got up to notify Uncle Bobby that he was taking Daryl home. It was almost 10pm and he figured he may as well call it a night. Lord knew he worked plenty of overtime when needed.

Uncle Bobby unlocked the back door to let Rick and Daryl out. “Are you gonna be able to get him out of here by yourself?” asked Bob.

Daryl hadn’t moved from his position at the bar. He looked like an amorphous blob and Rick knew he would struggle getting Daryl into the police cruiser without Shane’s help.

“Tell you what” Rick said, giving Bobby the keys to the patrol cruiser. “You get the back door open and I’ll escort tonight’s hero out.” Bobby looked doubtful but did what he was told.

Rick approached Daryl, briefly considered carrying him out in a fireman’s hold and then decided not to press his luck. He was technically still supposed to be on desk duty.

“Daryl,” Rick laid a hand on Daryl’s back. “Daryl, wake up!”

“Hhhhnnnnn………….wha? Go ‘way.” Daryl ineffectively batted Rick’s hands away.

“C’mon, need to get you home.” Rick put one of Daryl’s arms around his good shoulder and with his other arm grabbed him around the waist.

“Home? Ain’t got no home.” Daryl struggled to stand up. Most of his weight was supported by Rick. Rick couldn’t help but notice how bony Daryl’s hips were.

“Sure you do. You live behind me,” Rick panted, moving towards the exit, “in a quaint little cottage.”

“Now that’s some bullshit,” Daryl snorted.

Wasn’t it though?


	2. There's No Place Like Home

6 months earlier, New York City

An artist’s loft sets the stage, filled with paints and blank canvas, sketches, Chinese takeout, concept boards, and worst of all- _newspaper clippings_ , affixed prominently on the artist’s mini-fridge.

**_New York Post, Page Six_ (2 years earlier)**

**_The Dead Come Back to Life!_ **

_Last night art lovers, bored socialites, models, the beautiful people and their groupies, were in attendance at Murphy MacManus’ latest gallery showing entitled “The Living Dead: Portraiture in Ruin”. We caught up with MacManus, in trademark black turtleneck, dark glasses, and trucker’s cap, to ask what inspired him to do portraits of the rich and famous as zombies._

_“I wanted to show beauty in decay….or rather the beauty of decay. We live in a world filled with Botox and Photoshop, everything’s glossy and perfect. I wanted to show my subjects not only as untouched but also in a decayed state. There’s an elegance to rot.”_

_Exemplifying this philosophy is his reinterpretation of Kim Kardashian’s infamous butt shot for Paper Magazine. In MacManus’ version, the voluptuous one has been replaced with a zombiefied version of herself- yet her buttocks still defy gravity! When asked about this, MacManus replied, “Well, that ass ain’t real so I figured if she were to become a zombie while the rest of her would decay the silicone implants in her ass would not. I really hope to fix the Internet with that one.”_

_As esteemed art critics with impeccable taste, we can’t wait to see what MacManus comes up with next!_

****

**_New York Post, Page Six_ **

**_Masterful MacManus? More like mediocre MacManus – MMM’s latest gallery opening fails to thrill._ **

_Murphy MacManus, known for his craftsmanship, thought-provoking subject matter, and excellent presentation unveiled his latest paintings last night in an exhibit incongruously titled “Family”. This might have made sense if the subject matter actually was families and not random scenes of pigeons and homeless people. The gallery showing should have been titled “Poor people” or “Ode to Pigeons” as each painting was weirdly pedestrian for the unconventional artist. MacManus’ usual expertise with his medium was in full display, but the subject matter seemed more suited to a welfare office or Public Service Announcement than a sophisticated art gallery in Soho. MacManus was present but wouldn’t talk to us, instead deferring all questions to his agent which was probably just as well since he looked as healthy as the hobos in his paintings._

It was cold in his apartment but Daryl couldn’t be bothered to move from his window seat. He had a fantastic view of the city, worth the price of his penthouse in Manhattan, but today Daryl couldn’t appreciate it. His asshole agent had stopped by, ranted and raved for a few minutes and then finally left Daryl in peace but not before leaving him with two newspaper clippings.

“What the hell happened Daryl?!” Frank weighed about 300lbs and looked like he could keel over from a heart attack with or without Daryl’s help. “I trusted you when you said you had this showing locked up tight. I didn’t even ask for an advance preview. And you repay me with this shit?” screamed Frank, waving the _The Post’s_ Page Six review in his hand. “What the hell happened to you last year? You went from being top of the art world not even two years ago and now this? This mediocrity? This ineptitude? We didn’t sell one painting last night Daryl. Not one! These aren’t fit to go to GoodWill, first year art students could do better!” Frank was rather red-faced and had to pause his tirade in order to catch his breath. He walked over to where Daryl was sitting. Daryl refused to meet his gaze.

“So, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Nothin’.” Daryl was now wishing he had turned up the heat. He would do anything to get Frank to leave his mortal coil more quickly.

“Nothing? Really? Because I have a lot to say to you!” said Frank menacingly.

“Yes, I’ve heard.”

Frank grabbed Daryl’s shoulder, shook it, and turned Daryl to face him. Daryl immediately tensed. “If you don’t start giving a damn about your career then I’m not gonna help you. I’ve already had to apologize for your crap at the last gallery and I’m not going to do it again. You WILL get to work and you WILL produce something noteworthy and more importantly SALEABLE.”

“Get your hands off of me.”

Frank grabbed Daryl tighter and shook him. “Or you’ll do what?”

Daryl grabbed one of Frank’s wrists and twisted it away from his body. Frank immediately let go of him, making sounds of pain as he cradled his wrist to his chest. Daryl frog-marched him to the front door and opened it. Frank mustered what dignity he had left and looked back at Daryl. “I’m the most influential agent in New York and you know it. You’re finished.”

“So be it.” Daryl slammed the door shut and returned to his window seat to look forlornly out over the city.

Maybe he should move on, do something else. But what? Daryl wasn’t stupid. He knew that without Frank’s support and contacts no gallery would show him, especially given his last show’s poor performance. The once darling of the New York art scene was now considered a liability. If he were being truthful, Daryl would say that his art hadn’t been up to his usual standards for a long time. Daryl was an unusually prolific artist and could be relied on to do at least one good show per year. But ever since he got the news about Merle’s death he had been spiraling into depression.

Daryl got up and grabbed a manila file labeled “King County Coroner’s Office” that he kept next to his fireplace. He kept meaning to burn it but his “environmentally friendly” fireplace wouldn’t ignite. He really should fix it. He really should do a lot of things.

_Well, day’s already ruined. Might as well go big._ And with that thought Daryl went back to the window seat and opened the folder.

___________

_1 year earlier_

Daryl was about to turn in, he had just got back from a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum where he was a Patron-level donor. As he was brushing his teeth and contemplating doing a series of comedic sketches featuring dinosaurs failing at life (such as the inability of a T-rex to do pushups or a Stegosaurus cuddling), he heard something ringing- like an old-fashioned telephone ring. Daryl initially ignored it as he had painstaking programmed his phone with a variety of ring tones instead of caller ID- such as the Darth Vader theme song that identified his agent Frank. Wandering around his apartment, he realized the ringing was indeed his phone, currently nestled in his evening jacket. Toothbrush in mouth, he grabbed the phone and said “mwah…hello?”

“Is this Daryl Dixon?” asked an official-sounding woman. In the background he could hear someone screaming, which piqued his interest.

“Yup, you’re talkin’ to him.”

“This is Nurse Jacqui calling from Harrison Memorial Hospital in King County Georgia. Your father is in serious condition. I’m sorry to be giving you this bad news but he may not make it through the night. Are you able to come here immediately?”

Daryl removed his toothbrush from his mouth. “Woah, wait, hold up. My father is long dead. You have the wrong number.”

“You are the contact the patient listed and he listed you as his son. Name’s Merle Dixon. I _assume_ that is your relative?”

“Yeah Merle’s my brother. Wait, he’s DYING?” Daryl asked in complete disbelief. He hadn’t spoken to Merle in about 20 years.

“He doesn’t have much longer. When can you be here?”

“I live in New York City but I can hop on the first plane out there.”

“See that you do. Just come to the Intensive Care Unit as soon as you can.” The phone call ended with an ominous click.

Filled with urgency and alarm, Daryl threw his evening clothes back on, grabbed his wallet and headed straight to JFK hoping to book the first flight he could to Atlanta. In his hurry, he had completely forgotten about being listed as Merle’s son and didn’t spare any time to question it on the flight over.

_____________

_Harrison Memorial Hospital_

As it turned out, Daryl was too late. By the time he had managed to book a flight, rent a car, and drive all the way out to King County (a suburb nearly 90 minutes away from Atlanta), Merle had already passed away and had been taken to the local funeral parlor. Nurse Jacqui was surprisingly comforting to him given her brusque phone manners earlier.

Daryl was seated in the patient’s lounge, cup of coffee untouched in his hands. Nurse Jacqui was running her hand up and down Daryl’s back. Normally he would vehemently protest any infraction on his personal space but it was a testament to how disturbed he was that her touch didn’t bother him. Daryl turned to Nurse Jacqui and asked, “What did he die of?”

“Heart attack” replied Nurse Jacqui. “He came in late last night complaining of chest pains. He had been taking some pretty heavy duty blood pressure medication and combined with your father’s history with drugs, cigars, and alcohol, well, it was a fatal combination.”

Daryl didn’t bother to correct her on the “father” part. His brother must have been out of his mind with pain. “It’s funny, the last time I saw him was almost 20 years ago at the West Georgia Correctional Facility. He was always in and out over some petty crime or drug charges. I never once had his telephone number. I didn’t even know where he lived. Yet he had my telephone number.” Daryl shook his head, “ain’t that strange?”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways. Speaking of which,” Nurse Jacqui reached behind her to grab a canvas bag, “Here are your father’s personal belongings. You’ll find his home address listed on the patient information sheet.” She then handed him a business card. “Here’s the address of _Stokes Funeral Home and Mortuary_. Tell Reverend Gabriel I sent you. He’ll take care of the rest.”

**_*Paging Nurse Jacqui* *Nurse Jacqui to ICU*_ **

Nurse Jacqui sighed and stood up. “Well, that’s me. Take care Daryl Dixon and I hope this trip brings you some small measure of closure.” She patted him once more on the back and left him to his thoughts.

He turned over the business card in his hands. It was understated and made of thick paper. _Well, Merle ain’t gettin’ any fresher._ What Daryl didn’t know, and could not have known, was that another man was also in ICU, a man who would come to mean the world to him much later.

___________

_Room 540, ICU, Harrison Memorial Hospital_

Two figures stood, a man and a woman, hands clasped together, watching over another man lying comatose in a hospital bed. If it weren’t for the IV’s and tubes sticking everywhere, the man would look simply asleep and if he were to wake up he would probably wonder what all the fuss was about.

The woman sniffled and clutched the other man closer to her. “What am I going to do Shane? What if he doesn’t wake up? How am I going to take care of Carl on Rick’s pension?”

The man shushed her and let her cry into his shirt. “C’mon Lori, Rick’s tough. The doctor said he could wake up any day now. You need to be strong. For his sake and for Carl’s sake.” The woman sobbed even louder. The man made more comforting sounds. “Let’s go home, this is enough for today.” The woman nodded, leaned over and kissed the comatose man on the cheek. Hand in hand the pair left the hospital.

____________

_Stokes Funeral Home and Mortuary_

Daryl pulled into the small parking lot and turned off the GPS on his phone. He was down to one bar and was really regretting rushing out the door without his charger. The funeral parlor was a small, 1950’s-era structure that looked cheaply built. There was no buzzer on the door so Daryl let himself in.

Inside he could see a staging room with empty chairs and an open casket. _Must be the floor model_. It then suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea what his brother’s wishes were. Did he even want to be buried? Maybe he wanted to be cremated? Daryl cursed his brother for suddenly dropping dead on him and then cursed him again for leaving Daryl with this dilemma. He wandered over to a board that listed all of the funeral home’s services. He was so focused on debating the visual merits of pine versus maple caskets that he did not hear the funeral director approach.

“You must be Daryl Dixon,” a deep voice greeted him.

Startled, Daryl spun around to face a kindly-looking man. “Um, you must be Reverend Gabriel?”

“Yes I am. Nurse Jacqui called ahead to let me know you would be coming. I am sorry for your loss. How would you like to honor your father’s memory?”

Now Daryl was getting pissed. “First off, he ain’t my father even though there’s a big age gap between us. He is…was my no-good brother. And seein’ as how he didn’t bother to leave instructions of what to do with his sorry corpse, I’m goin’ to do what’s easiest for me.” Daryl looked at Reverend Gabriel challengingly.

“It’s not my place to comment on family affairs but I’ve often found that funerals provide the living with a sense of closure, should they seek it.”

Slightly mollified Daryl replied, “Well knowin’ him he’d probably haunt me if I cremated him so how about a nice pine box and a headstone. I’m assuming there’s a cemetery ‘round here?”

“There is,” Revered Gabriel nodded. “And did you want a service?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t even know who to invite. This’ll have to do.”

“Ok, I’ll make the arrangements and we can inter him tomorrow. The headstone will take a few weeks but please visit our website and pick out a design and you may compose an epitaph if you wish.”

“Does your gravestone designer accept custom designs?” The least Daryl could do was make sure his brother’s headstone was classy.

“He does for an additional fee and processing time. I have the paperwork in my office. Shall we?”

“Yeah ok, and I’ll have to get back to you with a…with a…what was it? Epitaph? What do people usually put on gravestones?”

“In your situation? _Beloved Father._ ”

Daryl didn’t even bother to correct him. On both accounts.

_________

After signing all of the release paperwork and giving Revered Gabriel a check, Daryl wondered what to do next. In the front seat of his rental car was the bag of Merle’s “affects” from the hospital as well as the patient info form. Fishing out the paperwork from underneath the stained and worn clothing, Daryl could see that an address was listed. Fishing out his cell phone GPS, Daryl figured he may as well see what dump Merle had been holed up in.

20 minutes later he pulled up to a double-lot. The house in the front looked unoccupied and had a “For Sale” sign up front. Daryl made his way to the back lot where a second house stood, incredibly even shabbier and more dilapidated than the house up front. In a pleasant surprise, a nicely maintained Triumph motorcycle was parked next to the house. Daryl had found keys in Merle’s pants pocket and tried each one before he was finally able to get the door open. After letting his eyes adjust to the dreary interior, Daryl wondered why his brother even bothered to lock the door. Fumbling for a light switch he took in his brother’s “home”. The entranceway led to a small living room beyond which Daryl could see a bedroom and a very small bathroom with a shower stall. The place didn’t even have a real kitchen, just a kitchenette equipped with a hotplate and a mini-fridge.

“What a dump.” Moving into the bedroom Daryl saw a small desk tucked in the corner with some kind of shelving system attached. Turning on the desk light Daryl sat down and grabbed the first few files, their contents spilling out on the desk. Eyes widening, Daryl sifted through newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping of parties Daryl had attended as well as brochures for each of his gallery showings. There were newspaper clippings about Daryl including an article written over 15 years ago about a Daryl’s first gallery showing after he graduated from NYU. It was laminated but the laminate looked worn, as if it had been handled many times.

Daryl had to get up. He couldn’t believe his brother had followed his career for the past two decades. The last words Daryl had spoken to Merle, behind prison Plexiglas, was his plan to “leave this redneck town” and go to NYU on scholarship and become a famous artist. Surprisingly Merle didn’t mock him that time, although he had always put down Daryl and his drawing as “faggish”. Merle simply wished him good luck. Walking around the bedroom, he sifted through Merle’s clothing and wondered what kind of work Merle had done to support himself. A cool-looking leather vest with angel wings hung in the closet caught his eye. While reaching for it, Daryl managed to bring the entire top shelf of Merle’s closet down. At his feet lay a small box, like a safety deposit box. It was locked so Daryl methodically tried each key from Merle’s key ring until it opened. Daryl figured it would contain drug paraphernalia but was pleasantly surprised to see it looked like the box contained all of Merle’s “important documents”. Gathering them up, he took them over to the desk to view them in better light.

Most of the documents were not shocking. He discovered that Merle did indeed own this house, had homeowner’s insurance (probably required by the mortgage company), had car insurance, and he even found Merle’s social security card- his _real_ social security card and not a fake. He was about to leave the documents on the desk but the corner of a birth certificate caught his eye. Come to think of it, Daryl had never seen his own birth certificate. He never traveled anywhere that required a passport and he was able to get his driver’s license with his social security number so he had never bothered to apply for a replacement, figuring he didn’t need it. The document was old and stained but it may as well have been written in flashing neon lights. It was his birth certificate and sure enough under “Father of Child”, listed in damning letters, was “Merle Dixon” with Merle’s sloppy signature confirming it underneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who commented! Feel free to give me criticism if something doesn't work for you.
> 
> Dumb question - when I upload using "Rich Text" (I am incapable of HTML) why does it omit my 2 spaces between period and the next sentence? My sentences look like they are running into each other! And I've spent a ridiculous amount of time formatting to get paragraph spaces to look OK in transition from Microsoft Word but I think they still look like crap. I read the FAQ but what do people usually do to post their fics? HTML?
> 
> Strangely it looks just fine on my tablet....


	3. The Hangover

 

Daryl awoke to a pounding headache and direct sunlight in his eyes. He was still wearing most of last night’s clothes- which were now drenched in sweat and smelled of tobacco. Judging by the intensity of the light, Daryl guessed it was past noon. Not bad for having started his bender at 6pm last night. As he struggled to disentangle himself from his sheets, he noted his lack of shoes and state of semi-undress and wondered how he had got home from the bar last night. He was pretty sure he hadn’t driven, Daryl was something of a black-out drunk, but he did feel a sense of panic when he realized he couldn’t remember much past a bar fight that he may or may not have started.

Stumbling into the kitchenette Daryl grabbed a water pitcher and drained it, not even bothering to use a glass. Outside he heard Rick trying to teach Carl how to catch some projectile. Carrying the pitcher Daryl went outside to see if he could jumpstart his memory. He found standing to be difficult so he succumbed to the indignity of sitting on the only piece of furniture on the porch- a rocking chair. Daryl died a little inside each time he tried to picture Merle rocking back and forth in this crappy chair on this crappy porch situated in this crappy town. Rick was apparently trying to teach Carl how to catch a curveball. Rick was surprisingly graceful, Carl just plain clumsy. Daryl considered that this activity was probably what most fathers did with their sons on a Friday afternoon. He heard Lori call for Carl within the house and watched Rick take this respite from baseball to tend to his herb garden. Daryl initially found it odd that Rick had an herb garden but, as he was learning with the Grimes’ family, he realized that he really had no idea what constituted as “normal” for the average suburbanite family. Daryl took a moment to observe his neighbor. Daryl could tell Rick hadn’t shaved yet, as he was the kind of man to get 5 o’clock shadow by 9am. His curly brown hair was kept short and neat, probably a requirement of his occupation, and he was wearing what must be his favorite plaid shirt, as it was the shirt Daryl most frequently saw him in when he was not in uniform. Daryl supposed Rick was handsome in a wholesome kind of way, as was Lori, as was Carl. They were all disgustingly wholesome.

Daryl figured this was as good of a time as any to try to piece together how he got home last night and, more importantly, where Merle’s bike was (hopefully not impounded). Daryl got up and leisurely approached Rick. It was warm, too warm, and he couldn’t believe he was missing the cooler weather in New York.

“So, um, look.” Daryl cleared his throat. Rick looked up from where he was digging up weeds. “This is kind of an odd question but did you see me come home with anybody last night?”

Rick rocked back on his heels. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember going to a bar. I don’t remember leaving that bar.”

“You got into a fight. According to the owner, you took out 5 guys. Since one of those guys is the town pariah and they all split by the time I got there, I decided not to book you.”

“Oh.” Daryl remembered throwing darts at one guy’s ass but not much else. He must’ve been mixing Tequila with Whiskey again.

“I hope this isn’t a regular Thursday night outing for you?”

“No. No sir. I…um…tend to blackout when I drink so no that’s not…uh…usually what I do for a good time.” Ironically, it was true that he rarely drank. Growing up with drunks and his abusive fath-, no _grandfather,_ who beat him regularly mostly turned him off from excessive alcohol consumption.

“Well, that’s good. See that it doesn’t happen again.” Rick’s words were tough but the tone he delivered them in were anything but.

“So, uh, do you know where my motorcycle is?”

“It’s at _The Office_ in the owner’s garage. I can take you there before my shift.” Rick resumed his weeding.

“You were the one who got me home last night?”

Rick nodded, not looking up from the planter box.

This made Daryl slightly uncomfortable. He wondered what Rick thought of his place, paints strewn about, unfinished canvases cluttering the floor….hopefully Rick hadn’t seen “Squirrely”. At least Rick hadn’t tried to undress him- Daryl wouldn’t have ever been able to look him in the eye again if Rick had seen his naked body. “Thanks for that. For getting me back home. Um, it won’t happen again.” Daryl turned to go back to his house and prayed he had some Advil lying around.

“Daryl,” Rick called out. “Where’d you learn how to fight like that? The mean streets of New York?”

Daryl chuckled. “Nah, I only ever sparred with day traders and lawyers.” At Rick’s blank expression Daryl elaborated, “Boxing club in Manhattan.” Daryl smiled at the dumbfounded expression on Rick’s face and consoled himself that as mystified as he was by the Grimes’ family, they were probably even more mystified by him.

__________

A cold shower, four Advil, and three hours later, Daryl stood waiting next to Rick’s squad car. The front door of the Grimes’ household opened to reveal a clean-shaven Rick, hastily tucking in his shirt and receiving a sweet kiss on the cheek from Lori. Rick motioned for him to get in the squad car, _in the back_. Daryl had never been in a squad car before and was a little miffed that he had to sit in the back per “regulations”. Still, the experience was odd. Had his life turned out differently, had he not escaped to New York, this very well could have been a repeat experience for him.

Rick interrupted his musings with, “So what happened to your accent?”

“Sorry?” asked Daryl.

“Your accent. It was real thick last night. I could’ve almost sworn you were a local boy.”

Among the many “culture shocks” Daryl had experienced since moving home was the fluctuation of his accent. He had never picked up a true New Yorker dialect but living up north had definitely flattened his speech. He had even learned how to enunciate semi-properly. He was currently at that weird stage where his brain couldn’t decide whether to lapse into the dialect he had spoken growing up or keep the posh dialect he had cultivated in New York. His use of language was just another attempt to further distance himself from his roots.

“It comes out when I get real drunk or when I’m angry. 20 years of living in New York will do that to you.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. I like your accent, I hope it comes back.” Rick met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “You grow up near here? I’ve lived in King County my whole life but I don’t think I went to school with you.”

“Nah, I grew up in Linden County.” Linden County was, and still is, much poorer than King County. Besides, even though Daryl thought Rick might be around the same age as him, he highly doubted that they would have travelled in the same circles in high school.

Rick pulled into the parking lot at _The Office_ and let Daryl out. “Go on in. Uncle Bobby said he’d leave the door open around this time so you can get your keys.”

“Thanks Rick, I really appreciate it.”

“Ain’t nothing. Look, I’ve been real busy with the move and the new baby coming but why don’t you and I go out some time for drinks, maybe shoot some pool? Lord knows it’ll probably be the last time I get to have some adult fun before the baby arrives.”

Daryl ducked his head, nodded at Rick, and replied “yeah, I’d like that. Stay safe tonight.”

___________

Rick watched Daryl make his way to the bar. Thus far on the “Last Few Weeks of Freedom Agenda” was a monster truck rally he planned to attend with Shane and a baby shower hosted by Michonne, his usual partner when Shane was off. Shooting some pool and surreptitiously ferreting out the moral fiber of his neighbor would round out the agenda. Rick was fiercely protective of his family and wanted to know if his neighbor should be included in that circle of protection or excluded. Plus, at least Daryl was easy on the eyes. Even hung-over the man cleaned up nice- all straight lines and a nice, firm ass. With a trimmed beard and nicer clothing on than what he had been wearing last night, Rick could almost forget Daryl lived in a rundown shack behind him. Chuckling Rick pulled out of the driveway. Little did he know that not only would he not get an opportunity to interrogate Daryl but also that the roadmap of his life was about to be altered forever.

At the station Rick put the finishing touches on his report regarding last night’s bar fight at _The Office_. So engrossed, he didn’t even realize he was humming until Michonne called him on it.

“What’re you so happy about?”

“Hmmm….nothing. Just had a good afternoon’s all.”

“Uh huh. Getting laid wouldn’t have anything to do with it?”

Rick just looked at her with a smirk and resumed his typing.

“I told you Lori would be horny in her 3rd trimester! Enjoy it while it lasts because you won’t be gettin’ any once the baby comes.”

“I know Michonne, you know this ain’t my first rodeo.” Michonne was the only one Rick confided his marital troubles to. He couldn’t talk about his marriage to Shane, Shane was too close to his family, but Michonne at least was more impartial.

Rick thought of his life now as “before coma” and “after coma”. “Before coma” he and Lori had fought nearly every day about nearly everything- money, how to raise Carl, even where to go to dinner on Saturday night. Most of their fights were extremely petty and Rick was tired of being nagged whereas Lori was tired of what she viewed as Rick’s unwillingness to discuss matters that affected them both. She had chalked up their communication problems to “getting married too early”. Rick didn’t buy that excuse and constantly had to remind her that he had meant it when he said his vows, specifically “till death do us part”. All of this changed once Rick woke up from his coma. Now, it was almost as if Lori were trying out for “wife of the year”. She had been extremely attentive and extremely affectionate once he had was released from the hospital and he supposed that was why she got pregnant, as they hadn’t been very careful with birth control.

Rick shut down his computer. “Alright, that’s done. Am I patrolling with you tonight since Shane’s off?”

“That’s right, you’re stuck with me.”

Rick gave her a wide smile. “Let’s get to it then!”

___________

Lori Grimes sat at her kitchen table across from her husband’s best friend and her current lover, Shane Walsh. He was angry with her and she didn’t know how to extricate herself from the mess she found herself in. It wasn’t like she had meant to cheat on Rick- it kind of just…happened. Early last year Rick had been involved in a routine traffic stop and had been critically injured- he was in a coma for weeks and the doctors weren’t sure he would ever wake up. Shane had been her rock during those trying times, a surrogate father to Carl and a surrogate lover to her. It hadn’t helped that she and Rick had been fighting before the incident, making it even easier to fall into bed with Shane.

“What if the baby’s mine?” asked Shane.

Lori sighed. “She probably _is_ yours, Shane. I just hope Rick won’t be able to put two and two together when she comes out a bit earlier than when he thinks she will. But you cannot ask me to leave Rick. He bought this house for me but I don’t think he will be so understanding about me sleeping with you while he was in a coma!” They had had this conversation several times already. Shane had been fine with being the side piece, even after Rick had woken up, but once Lori started was pregnant, he had become unreasonable and demanding.

“I jus’ wanna be there for her when she grows up.”

“And you will be Shane, you will be. Heck, part of the reason I asked Rick to buy a bigger house was so that you could stay in the guest room on movie night. Nothing has to change, but Rick can’t know about us. It would break him.”

Lori got up and sat on Shane’s lap. He didn’t look happy but she was not about to throw her marriage away. She cupped his cheeks and brought her lips down to his. Even though she was fairly large by now Shane cupped her buttocks, hoisted her up, and spread her out on the kitchen table.

“It’s true what they say, ‘bout pregnant women bein’ horny,” panted Shane, struggling with undoing Lori’s jeans.

Lori tilted her head back and let Shane get to work. Sighing in pleasure she opened her eyes just in time to see Daryl Dixon, through the back door window, hand poised ready to knock.

_________

Uncle Bobby made Daryl try out his “hangover remedy” before finally giving Daryl the keys to his bike. With an upset stomach, he made his way home and figured he may as well try to get some painting in before dark. As he strolled up to his house, he saw an unfamiliar car parked in the Grimes’ driveway. He didn’t think much about it and set to work. About an hour later the Advil he had taken earlier had worn off and he didn’t have any more pain killers. He approached the Grimes’ house and hoped he looked pitiful enough to score some aspirin from Lori. He was about to knock on the back door when he froze. Lori was pinned down on her kitchen table, clearly enjoying herself underneath a man who seemed strangely familiar to Daryl. He was about to lower his fist and quietly back away when Lori’s eyes met his.

Shocked into action, he turned on his heal and quickly walked back to Merle’s house, pain killers forgotten. He had never really understood the concept of “cheating”. It seemed to him that it would just be easier on everyone involved for the cheater to call it quits. But what did he know about relationships? He had never been in any.

Looking around Merle’s living room, which Daryl had converted into a sort of artists’ studio, his eyes landed on an unfinished portrait of Merle. Daryl had tried to paint him from memory as Daryl couldn’t find any photos of Merle and Merle’s driver’s license photo was terrible. Time passed and Daryl became lost in memories while contemplating the unfinished piece. Ironically, Meryl was the one who unintentionally got Daryl started on the path towards becoming an artist. Right before Merle was about to join the service, it was either that or more jail per the court order, Merle had given Daryl a parting gift of a sketchpad and some artist’s charcoal. Daryl had been upset at his “big brother” leaving him and wanted something to remember him by. So Meryl told him to draw a picture of him so that Daryl wouldn’t forget- he even posed for a while so Daryl could sketch him. Daryl treasured that notebook- up until the point his fath- grandfather used it for kindling.

He was startled out of his reverie by three strong raps at the front door. Annoyed at being interrupted, he yanked the front door open only to be confronted by Lori.

“Hi Daryl. May I come in?” she nervously asked.

Daryl looked around behind him and then back at Lori. He didn’t move from his position blocking the entranceway.

“Look uh, about what you saw…it’s uh…complicated and…uh…I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to Rick.”

“Ain’t none of my business what you do Olive Oyl. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

Lori nodded. “Thanks Daryl, I’m sorry to have to ask you to keep this secret.”

Daryl looked at her disbelievingly. “Then why do it? Why cheat on Rick? He’s a good man.”

Lori started to get flushed. “Like I _said_ it’s complicated and I doubt someone like you could understand.”

“Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Daryl angrily.

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that. But you don’t have a family, you don’t know what it’s like to almost lose your husband in the line of duty.”

“You’re right- I don’t know and I don’t wanna know. Are we done here?”

“Yeah, we’re done. Thanks Daryl.”

Daryl shut the door in her face. He had known about what had happened to Rick. Carl had made it a point to tell him after he had moved in about his “heroic Dad” and he supposed Lori would use any reason to justify her cheating. It didn’t seem right to treat Rick that way. He had done alright by Daryl and it made Daryl sad to be a witness to what was obviously a sham on Lori’s part. He had never known his mother, hell he had barely known his grandmother. He had no idea what a committed relationship looked like but it made him sad to see the obvious cracks in what he had thought was his neighbor’s perfect marriage. And the worst part was that Rick didn’t have a clue.


	4. Mother

It was early July and the baby was due in a few short weeks. He whistled as he made his way back to his squad car from his evening coffee break at Starbucks. He was patrolling with Michonne again as Shane had asked for the night off. Carl was staying at a friend’s house and he was looking forward to some quality time with Mrs. Grimes when he got off his shift in a few hours.

***Beep* *dispatch to Unit 134* *Over***

Rick grabbed the radio thru the unrolled window, not yet ready to sit down for the next few hours in the speed trap he and Michonne had been assigned to. “This is Unit 134. What is the emergency? Over.”

**Is this Deputy Grimes? Over.**

“This is Deputy Grimes. What is the emergency? Over.”

**Deputy Grimes, we have been notified by Harrison Memorial that Deputy Walsh and an unidentified female are in critical care. Serious car accident. Over.**

Rick exchanged an alarmed look with Michonne. “Dispatch, we are on our way.” Rick hurriedly got into the patrol car and turned on the lights and sirens. Michonne held on tight as he peeled out of the shopping plaza they were in and headed towards the freeway.

“Wasn’t Shane going on a date tonight?” asked Michonne.

“I assume so. I thought that was why he asked for the night off.” Rick gritted his teeth. Shane was practically a member of his family- he couldn’t stand to watch Lori and Carl go through anymore heart ache.

They pulled into the parking lot and ran into the Emergency Room. A nurse at the front desk stopped them.

“Are you here about Deputy Walsh?”

Rick nodded. “What can you tell us?”

“He’s being operated on right now. He was brought in with what an almost-due pregnant woman. They are trying to induce labor right now to save the baby.”

The bottom of Rick’s stomach dropped out. He grabbed the nurse’s shoulder. “Was the woman about medium height, brown hair, brown eyes, mid-30’s?”

The nurse gently pried Rick’s hands off of herself. “We have someone going through her clothes right now looking for an ID card. Deputy Walsh was identified by the EMT’s first on the scene. “

“That woman is MY WIFE.”

The nurse’s eyes-widened. “Look sir, we are trying to save her life first and foremost. Let me go check her personal belongings and see if I can’t find some ID.”

Rick nodded and collapsed into one of the waiting chairs.

“Look, Rick, we don’t know it was her. So calm down and let’s wait for the nurse to come back.”

“What was she doing out with Shane tonight? We were supposed to have a romantic dinner when I got off shift.”

“I don’t know Rick but I’m sure there is a logical explanation. Maybe he was helping her out with something.” She placed her hand on Rick’s back. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

For the first time in a very long time Rick put his head down between his legs and prayed.

___________

One of the first things Daryl had done after selling his place in Manhattan and moving to Merle’s house was to try to find the woman listed as his mother on his birth certificate, a woman named “Linda Carter”. Not only did he find that name to be highly suspect, but also her signature on the document was overly girly (a heart dotting the “i”, _really_?). Daryl wondered if Merle had forged it. So, with that useless piece of information he tried the next best thing- to locate the physician in attendance, a “Hershel Greene, M.D.”, location: Senoia Community Hospital. Senoia was a few towns over from Linden and was actually much closer to King County. Hoping he could solve the mystery of his birth he devoted the next week to tracking down Dr. Hershel Greene.

His first stop was at the hospital where he was born. He was informed that Dr. Greene had taken early retirement about 20 years ago to open up a local practice and focus on his family. Apparently the old man was still practicing and even made house calls. Senoia was mostly a farming community and truly a two stoplight town. Daryl had initially planned to visit the small “town” and hope to find Dr. Greene’s address but it turned out he didn’t need to- there was a sign off the main highway advertising the “Greene Family Farm”.

Daryl pulled up to the quaint Victorian and parked his bike. He was wearing a light-weight suit and tie he had packed from New York and he had even shaved that morning. He hoped that despite the motorcycle he looked presentable enough. Smoothing-out his hair, he grabbed the file containing his birth certificate and approached the house. Halfway up the steps to the porch, a blur of blonde hair barreled into him knocking him into the dirt. _So much for my last clean suit from New York._

“Oh my gosh! I am SO sorry.” The blonde waif in front of him was stronger than she looked. She hauled him up from his armpits and started to dust him off, vigorously.

“It’s uh, fine miss. Truly. No harm done.” She continued patting him down. He grabbed her hands to stop the assault. “Thank you kindly. I’m here to see Dr. Greene. Is he in?”

“My Dad? Sure he’s having afternoon tea with my mother. Not to be rude but may I ask the nature of your visit?”

Daryl bent over and grabbed the file he had dropped when he fell. He opened it and gave the young lady his birth certificate.

“My name’s Daryl Dixon and as you can see there your father delivered me. My father recently died and I never knew my mother so I was hoping that your father could give me some information.”

Beth’s face fell as he relayed this information and she looked very sad about the death of a complete stranger. “I’m sorry for your loss. My name’s Beth. If you don’t mind waiting here for a minute, I can check with my father and see if he can meet with you now.” She waived the certificate. “May I take this to him to show him?”

Daryl nodded.

“Ok, I’ll be right back.”

True to her word, she was indeed right back. “He’ll see you now. Please follow me to the parlor.” She turned and motioned for him to enter the house.

The front parlor was quaint, very “farm house chic”, but comfortable. Daryl sat down in one of the overstuffed armchairs.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Thanks though.”

A few minutes later an elderly man entered. _This is that teenager’s father?_

Daryl stood up and shook Dr. Greene’s hand. They sat down and Dr. Greene returned Daryl’s birth certificate to him.

“I remember your father. He couldn’t have been more than 14 years old when he and his girl came to the ER. Beth told me that you were looking for your mother?”

“Merle died a few months ago. Truth is, I never knew he was my father until I came across this birth certificate. I guess he had my grandpa raise me as his own.”

“Ah I see. Well, unfortunately I think you will have a difficult time finding her. They were both terrified when she started to go into labor. I don’t know how she managed to hide the pregnancy but Merle told me after the delivery that they had come several counties over in order to have the baby as they didn’t want anyone to know about it in their town.”

“That would make sense. I was raised to think Merle was my brother.”

Dr. Greene’s suddenly chuckled. “I remember when it came time to sign the birth certificate. Your mother was asleep and Merle was rocking you back and forth with an amazed expression on his face, the kind of expression I often see on new parents. I asked him for the name of the mother and he looked at me, utterly panicked. _Wonder Woman_ was playing on the TV so I guess that’s where he got the inspiration for your mother’s name.”

Given how difficult she was proving to be found, Daryl supposed his mother may as well hail from a planet of Amazons.

“The next day I came to do my rounds and check in on them but they were already gone. Stiffed the hospital on the bill too.”

“Sounds like Merle.”

“Well son, I don’t what happened later on in your lives but I do know that Merle loved you. I’ve delivered hundreds of babies and your father was over the moon when you were born.”

Daryl was disappointed but he supposed it was for the best. Assuming he could ever find her, he wasn’t sure if he would hug his mother or hit her considering the hell Will Dixon had put him through. On the bright side, he could always lie and say his mother was a famous actress at the next cocktail party he attended.

Daryl stood up and got ready to leave. “Thank you for your time Dr. Greene.”

“My pleasure Daryl. And you can call me Hershel. Out here in the country we don’t stand much on ceremony.”

And with that parting statement, Daryl left not much more informed than when he had started.

___________

_Harrison Memorial Hospital, Waiting Room_

It was exactly 16 steps from one end of the waiting room to the other, Rick mused. Michonne was talking to the EMT’s who had been first on scene as well as the patrol officer who had taken the initial incident report. Shane and his unknown passenger had been hit head-on by a vehicle traveling in the opposite direction. The driver of that car had died on impact. The initial toxicology screen hadn’t turned up any drugs or alcohol and it appeared that the driver had simply lost control of the vehicle - either due to distraction or external influences – and had jumped the center divider and plowed into Shane’s car.

A doctor approached the group and asked, “Which one of you is Deputy Rick Grimes?”

Rick approached him. “That would be me sir.”

“Please come with me.” The doctor, “Dr. Jenner” according to his name tag, led Rick to an unoccupied examination room.

He motioned to a chair. “Why don’t you sit down Mr. Grimes?”

“Why don’t you tell me what the hell’s goin’ on Dr. Jenner?”

“Your wife was in that car accident. The trauma of the accident prompted her to go into labor. We were able to save the baby’s life but, I’m terribly sorry, your wife died from blood loss.”

Rick looked at Dr. Jenner uncomprehendingly. “What do you mean she’s dead? The nurse didn’t find ID, maybe it wasn’t my wife. It can’t be MY WIFE!”

Dr. Jenner handed Rick a silver locket. “She was in the hospital records. Her ob-gyn was Dr. Brown, right? Deputy Grimes, Rick, I am so sorry.”

Tears started to stream down Rick’s face. “She can’t be dead. We have a family together. You, you don’t understand.” Rick swallowed, a sob caught in his throat. “We jus’….things were goin’ so well….it can’t be…I can’t do this….the baby….Carl….LIFE….without her.” Rick folded himself into a corner and covered his head. He hadn’t seen her but Michonne had joined them as soon as she heard Rick’s cries echoing throughout the hallway. He felt a pair of strong arms, Michonne’s arms, hold him and a melodic voice was saying something, what, Rick couldn’t be sure. He just sat there, in utter disbelief, for what felt like an eternity.

____________

Several hours later Michonne was finally able to calm Rick down enough to remove his weapon, protection vest, and shoes and convince him to lie down on one of the spare beds in the hospital. He initially wanted to see Lori but Dr. Jenner had convinced him that that was unnecessary and that Lori wouldn’t have wanted Rick to see her like that. Michonne helped the Nurse slip Rick a sedative and left to get information. Lori had delivered a healthy baby girl. Michonne hadn’t been to the Nursery to see her yet, but she had been reassured by the hospital staff that the baby was doing just fine. Shane had died on impact.

 _What a mess_. Michonne hadn’t been as enamored with Shane as Rick or Lori had been and she was concerned that Shane had evidently taken the night off to go out with Lori. It could be nothing but one time, at the Station, Michonne had overheard a telephone conversation between Shane and Lori that was not appropriate between a married woman and a family friend. Michonne had long suspected Lori of cheating on Rick with Shane, especially ever since Rick had been shot, but she didn’t have any proof and she wasn’t willing to destroy a professional and a personal relationship over speculation.

She called the station and updated the Chief on what had happened. That done, she suddenly thought about Carl but then remembered that Rick had said he was spending the night at a friend’s house. Deep in thought, she found she had made her way to the Nursery her only remaining thought _I hope the baby’s not Shane’s._


	5. No More Bisquick

Rick stood in front of the hospital with the baby in his arms and waited for Michonne to pick them up. He wondered how he should inform Carl that he would never see his mother again. Reality had not yet set in for Rick, the reality that he would never lie down with his wife again, that he would have to raise two children by himself and that one of those children wasn’t his, and finally that his wife had cheated on him with his best friend. He wasn’t sure which ticked him off more, Lori dying and leaving him to deal with this mess on his own or for her cheating on him in the first place. He could imagine how it started: he was in a coma- Shane was available, Rick wasn’t. He was honest enough with himself to know that had she confessed the affair, even confessed the resulting pregnancy, Rick would have easily and quickly forgiven her. The fact that she didn’t tell him and the fact that she pushed for a larger and more importantly remote house told him that the affair continued even after he woke up from the coma. Attentive and affectionate “after coma” Lori was the manifestation of pure guilt- Lori hadn’t been as deferential nor physically loving when they were dating! How stupid of him to think it was because of his brush with near death. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if he had never woken up…

And now he was stuck with a small infant, with nobody to take care of her, and no family support system- just him and a nine year old boy. He was too tired to feel panicked but he had no doubt it would set in shortly. Looking back he could see the signs of what was going on right under his nose. Lori hadn’t wanted him to attend any of the pre-natal doctor appointments; her rationale was that Rick had just gotten back to work and didn’t need any distractions. She had also told him she had about 4-5 weeks to go which, given the timing, would have made conception impossible given he was still in a coma 9 months ago. After he calmed down enough to speak to Dr. Jenner he had learned that Lori was almost full-term. He thought about having a paternity test done but what was the point? Judith was his burden now.

Michonne pulled up in Lori’s, now Rick’s, minivan fully equipped with infant car seat. She helped Rick secure Judith and helped him take a large cooler of donated breast milk from the hospital until he could get the powdered stuff. Michonne was largely silent on the trip home. The Chief had told him to take off as much time as he needed. It was a good thing it was summer and Carl didn’t have school. They arrived at the house and Rick put the baby to sleep in her new nursery.

Michonne tried, and failed, to catch his eye. “Rick, whatever you need…whenever you need it…please just call me.”

“Yeah ok.”

Michonne started to say something else but they were interrupted by the front door opening.

“Dad! I had the BEST time last night….oh hey Michonne.” Carl took in his father’s disheveled appearance and knew immediately that something was wrong. “Err, what’s going on?”

Rick stood up and motioned Michonne to the door.

“Rick, I mean it. Please call me or Carol. You know we’ll come running.”

Rick nodded at her and let her out. In the course of his work as a Sheriff’s Deputy, he had had to be the bearer of bad news to many, many people. It was horrible every single time. However being on the reciprocal side was unequivocally a thousand times worse.

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“Carl, I need you to sit down for a moment.” Rick knelt in front of him so that he was eye level. “Your mother and Shane were in a car accident last night. They um…they…,” Rick’s voice started to break and tears collected in his eyes, “they didn’t make it”.

“What? What do you mean? Couldn’t the doctor’s do anything?”

“No son, the accident was bad. I am so, so sorry.”

Carl started sniffling, which soon turned into all-out bawling. Rick gathered him in his arms and tried to be strong for his son. Time passed and Carl’s cries turned into hiccups. Rick lay on the couch with Carl, Rick’s unseeing gaze affixed to some unknown point in the distance, rubbing his hand up and down Carl’s back. Suddenly, Judith decided to make her grand entrance in the form of a piercing wail.

Carl looked up at Rick, an alarmed expression on his face. “Who’s that?”

Rick rearranged Carl on the couch and got up. “Your sister survived the accident. Do you want to come see her?”

Rick could see that Carl was having difficulty processing that his mother couldn’t survive a car accident that his tiny baby sister could but curiosity won out over anger. Together they went to the rather large nursery Lori and Rick, well actually Lori and Shane, had put together for baby Judith. Rick picked up Judith and could see that she was hungry and so took her to the kitchen to warm a bottle.

“What’s gonna happen Dad? How are we gonna take care of a baby?”

“I don’t know Carl, we’ll have to figure it out. I can’t do this alone, are you going to help me?” Rick rocked the baby back and forth and looked to Carl.

“I’m gonna be the best brother there ever was!” And a smile broke out on Carl’s face.

After the baby had had her fill, Rick put her down to sleep again and suggested to Carl that he go play some games until dinner time. The truth was that Rick was extremely concerned about what this meant for his life and that of his family’s. The house was already a financial stretch for a two-parent household. Lori had assured him that money would be tight initially but that ultimately the house would prove to be a good investment. Their monthly budget hadn’t factored in paying for daycare. For that matter, Rick was going to have to figure out how to get Carl to and from school when it started in the fall. Having Lori home was a huge asset to him and now he was going to have to figure out how to do it all by himself.

___________

Daryl, disgusted with himself for his ennui and ability to sleep for 14 hours a day, decided to start setting an alarm so that he would be forced to wake up at 7am. He had hit the snooze button for at least 30 minutes straight but at least by 8am he had eaten small breakfast and had his canvas mounted, paints ready, classic rock streaming on Pandora, and artistic license fully in hand. A few minutes passed as he contemplated the blank canvas before him. He was stuck. Already. Deciding he needed more natural light in his living room, er studio, he opened all of the blinds and saw the Grimes’ boy sitting dejectedly on the back steps of his house. Normally he would never interfere with his neighbor’s lives but he didn’t feel like painting anyway.

Daryl approached Carl and saw that he had likely been crying all night. The interior of the house was absent both light and noise.

“Hey little man, what’s got you down? Ain’t your Mom and Dad gonna wake up soon? Your Mom’ll flip if she sees you outside in your pajamas.”

“Mom’s dead”.

_Oh. Crap._ Daryl struggled to find something comforting to say.

“She usually makes pancakes on Sundays....”

“Where’s your old man?”

“Asleep.”

Daryl wasn’t very good at condolences. But if there was one thing besides painting that he prided himself on, it was his ability to deflect discomfort with delicious food.

“Well how about I make you some pancakes?”

Carl looked dubiously at him. “You can cook?”

“Sure can. Can’t survive in this world without food. I’ve been cooking for myself since before I was your age.”

Carl did not look convinced.

“Look, I probably can’t make them just like your Mom’s but if you take me to your kitchen I’ll give it my best shot.”

Carl shrugged and showed Daryl to the kitchen.

“Where does your Mom keep her ingredients?”

Carl opened a cabinet, grabbed a bag, and set it in front of Daryl. “She uses this stuff”.

‘This stuff’ was Bisquick. _Ugh, no thanks._ Pancakes were easy to make from scratch, Daryl never understood why people bought premix. Just exactly how lazy are you if you can’t mix 4, ok _maybe_ 6, ingredients together? Daryl looked inside what he guessed was Lori’s pantry and started to remove items that would hopefully work for pancakes. She didn’t have all the ingredients he needed to make his favorite recipe (from Canada and involving lemon zest, fresh blueberries, and buttermilk) but at least Lori had real maple syrup and not Aunt Jemima.

Daryl spread out the ingredients on the kitchen island and got to work. For a woman who seemed to rely heavily on pre-packaged food and ready-bake mixes, the kitchen itself was surprisingly well-equipped and modern. When he lived in Manhattan, Daryl had rarely needed to cook for himself. But old habits die hard and from as young an age as he could remember, if he didn’t make food for himself nobody else would. New York may have refined his palette but the decided lack of decent take-out places in King County made cooking a requirement for his continued existence.

He served up pancakes with lemon zest, sans blueberries, and sat down with Carl to enjoy his work. Carl inhaled his portion and asked for seconds.

“So my pancakes aren’t that bad huh?”

“Yeah, these are better than my Mom’s!” Carl’s face fell and he looked sad again.

Fortunately Rick chose this moment to make his appearance. He looked like hell, Daryl noted, which added credence to what Carl had said about Lori. He had a small baby in his hands. _Had Lori died in childbirth?_

“Hi Daryl, that smells heavenly.”

“I, uh, made some for you too. And coffee’s just about done. I was going to fry up some eggs. How do you like yours?”

“However’s fine”. Rick opened the fridge and grabbed what Daryl guessed was a package of milk for the baby and set to warming it up.

Daryl made a plate for Rick, poured him a cup of coffee, and set it at the table with Carl.

“Um, do you want me to feed the baby so you can eat?” asked Daryl tentatively.

“Sure, it ain’t hard.” Rick handed him the baby and Daryl fell in love. He had never had much interaction with children, let alone babies, but he finally understood why people were so protective of them. With his free hand he tried to wipe some drool off of her chin only for his thumb to be captured in a surprisingly strong grip. She giggled at him, like thwarting him had been her main goal and would not release his thumb. Rick hadn’t spoken a name yet so he mentally called her “Lil’ Asskicker”.

“Make sure her head’s supported at all times. Put her in the crook of your arm- no, not like that,” Rick physically moved Daryl’s elbow in closer to his body. He then removed the package from the warm water on the stovetop and poured it into a bottle. “First you test it against your skin to make sure it’s not too hot,” Rick demonstrated on himself and then gave the bottle to Daryl, “and then you let her eat at her own pace.”

Satisfied that Daryl had the situation under control, Rick sat down and half-heartedly ate his pancakes and eggs. Carl had wandered off so it was just him, Rick, and the baby.

“Carl tell you what happened?”

“Not the details. Just that your wife passed away.”

“She and Shane got into a fatal car accident.” Daryl couldn’t help but flinch at Shane’s name.

“Wasn’t that guy your partner?”

“Yeah. He was at _The Office_ with me the night you got into the fight. You probably don’t remember him, seein’ as how you were totally inebriated. He was a long-time family friend. You ever see him around the house when I wasn’t home?”

Daryl figured he was caught. “Yeah, just the other day. I, uh, needed some Advil and I saw Lori an’ him together.” Rick nodded to himself. “Look, uh, I know I should have said something, done something-“

Rick interrupted him. “Nah, you couldn’t have. It wasn’t any of your business. Look if you could,” Rick lowered his voice, “if you could keep it to yourself, I’d appreciate it. I’m pretty sure the baby’s Shane’s and I don’t want to have to explain that to Carl.”

Daryl looked Rick in the eye and nodded. “Yer girl’s just about done here.”

Rick stood up and draped a small towel over Daryl’s right shoulder. “Now you need to burp her. Put her up on your shoulder, yeah like that, and gently pat her back.”

Daryl did as he was told. “What does “burping” her do?”

Rick shrugged and took the baby from him. “I don’t know. It’s just one of those things you do.” Rick looked at Daryl, “I’ve got to go put her down for a nap. Thanks for making breakfast.”

“Yeah I need to get back to work. Uh, if you need anything, I’m just out back…” Rick had already walked off and figuring he was dismissed Daryl returned to Merle’s house. Once back in his studio/living room he was immediately depressed. He liked cooking for Carl and he liked holding Lil’ Asskicker. Back in Merle’s home he realized how alone he was and, in truth, had always been. With that epiphany, he closed all of the blinds and got back into bed.


	6. About as common as unicorns that fart rainbows

It was hot and muggy. Just another “perfect” summer day in Georgia, Rick mused as Lori’s casket was interred. Shane’s parents were still alive and had opted to bury their son a few days earlier. He and Carl had attended and it took all of Rick’s self-control not to throw a fit during the eulogy about how “great” a friend Shane had been to the Grimes family. But Lori’s funeral was a thousand times worse. Rick hadn’t spoken at the service- he left that to their mutual friends and Lori’s parents and sister. Carl was bawling his eyes out and Rick, well Rick was strangely unemotional. As the funeral party returned to their respective vehicles to drive to the reception at Rick’s home, his friend Carol caught up to him with the baby in her arms.

“You want to take her back?” Carol asked.

“Nah.”

Carol looked disappointed in him. “Is everything ready at the house? You need me to pick up anything?”

“Nah, neighbor’s got it.”

“Right. Your neighbor who bashed Ed’s face in?”

“He ain’t all that bad.” They had arrived at their respective vehicles so Rick had no choice but to take the baby from her. He proceeded to secure the baby in her car seat and then turned back to Carol. “I’ll see you at the house.”

Carol looked like she wanted to say more but he didn’t care. He just wanted the day to be over already.

____________

Daryl frantically set out food and drink in what he assumed was Rick’s dining room. Rick had asked him earlier in the week if he wouldn’t mind picking up some refreshments for the funeral reception. Rick had even been so kind as to lend Daryl the use of the mini-van so he made an early morning run to the nearest grocery store and had set to preparing the food while Carl and Rick had attended Lori’s funeral. The spread wasn’t up to his usual standards but he simply hadn’t the time to prepare anything more complicated. Satisfied that at least no one would leave hungry, he darted back to Merle’s house where he took a quick shower and dressed in black slacks, black dress shoes, and a black tie. He left the black blazer in the closet. He was hot enough as it was. As he was arranging the sympathy flowers throughout the house, the first guests began to arrive.

He greeted an older woman with silver hair, fashionably spiked, accompanied with a girl with bright red hair, who he presumed was her daughter and who immediately wandered off in the direction of Carl’s room.

The woman stuck out her hand and firmly grasped Daryl’s. “Pleased to meet you. You must be Daryl.”

Daryl nodded. “Yes ma’am, the one and only.”

“I guess I should thank you.”

“Pardon?”

“For giving my ex the beating he always deserved.”

_This classy broad was married to that pig he beat up at the bar?_ “Um, no problem. Pleasure was all mine.”

“I bet”.

He could see that she wanted to interrogate him some more but he was rescued by Rick, who dumped the baby in his arms. “Can you hold on to her for the afternoon?”

“Sure no problem.” For the next hour he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible. Eventually though, he could tell that Lil’ Asskicker was tired from all of the excitement and so he put her down for a nap in the nursery. Figuring he may as well make himself useful, he grabbed the nearest pitcher of iced tea and circled the house offering refills. As far as he could surmise, the guests seemed to comprise mostly of Rick’s fellow police officers and Lori’s family. No one yet at least had indicated themselves to be a relative of Rick’s. The general mood was understandably somber but Rick looked more angry than sad. By the afternoon most of the guests had left and Daryl was tidying up while Rick sat with some people who he presumed were Lori’s parents and sister.

“I’m not askin’ ya to move in. I’m just askin’ if you could stay for a few weeks while I get back on my feet.” Daryl couldn’t see from his position in the kitchen but he guessed that this query was directed to Lori’s parents.

“Rick, you know we would do anything for you but I just can’t be around Lori’s child right now. It’ll break my heart!” an older woman sobbed.

“What about you Lana?” Daryl guessed this was directed at Lori’s younger sister.

“I would love to help you Rick but I can’t leave my family right now and I live too far away to be of regular help to you.”

Rick sighed. “I understand. You want to stay here overnight or are you folks headin’ home?”

This time Lori’s father answered. “It’s been a long day son. We need to be on our way.” And with that, Rick let them out the front door. They apparently hadn’t even wanted to say goodbye to Carl or the baby. Daryl was gathering all of the used dishes when Rick bumped into him.

“You’re still here?” asked Rick, surprised.

“Yeah. Thought I’d help clean up.”

A weak smile graced Rick’s face. “Thanks Daryl. I really appreciate you helping me with all of this.”

Together they gathered the trash and put the leftovers in the refrigerator. Daryl rolled up his sleeves and got to washing dishes while Rick dried them.

“You know, if you uh need anything, jus’ let me know. It ain’t like I’m real busy.”

“Thanks Daryl. As you no doubt heard, Lori’s family ain’t interested in helping me out.”

Daryl could write a book on dysfunctional families so he spared Rick the platitudes usually accompanied by such as a statement. After they finished cleaning up, Rick sat at the kitchen table and put his heads in his hands.

“I guess I’ll be leaving now.” Daryl moved towards the back door.

“Wait up a minute.” Rick reached into his pocket and gave Daryl a set of keys and a business card. “These are the keys to the house and the minivan. Also on that card are the precinct telephone number, my cell number, and the house phone.”

Daryl took the items and returned to Merle’s house, an entire agenda of nothing planned for the remainder of the evening.

____________

After Daryl left, Rick didn’t know what to do with himself. Carl was in his room and Rick had fed and changed Judith. Rick had never been much of a drinker but he figured if there was ever a time to go on a bender this would be it. As he gathered up every ounce of liquor in the house and lined up his choices for the evening on the dining room table, he mused that in the “7 Stages of Grief” he had moved very quickly through shock and denial and was currently at the “Anger Stage”. He was furious with Lori, furious with Shane, and furious with himself for not seeing the obvious signs that something was up. He discovered a 24 pack of beer in the garage, probably purchased by Lori for Shane and him for some sporting event. It was warm but that didn’t matter. He popped open the tab, sipped, and prepared his game plan. In his liquor foraging he found 2 bottles of red wine, half a bottle of whiskey, a full bottle of vodka, and a small bottle of gin. With enough booze, maybe he could skip the remaining four stages of grief and get on with his life….

__________

Daryl was having a weird dream- at least he hoped it was a dream. He was at an art show in New York and all of his paintings were of the same baby. Not his best work, but the paintings were oddly endearing. He then found himself in Central Park, running from Frank, who was surprisingly fast given his largess. Frank was yelling at him to “make the baby into a zombie” to which Daryl replied “nooooooooooooooooo” and ran faster. This went on for a while until suddenly Carl’s voice emerged, as if from the heavens, with _“Daryl, wake up”._ Daryl desperately wanted to comply but he was in that odd stage between dreamland and wakefulness. Three very loud, very forceful knocking sounds did the trick and he awoke to find himself on the floor, in Merle’s house, next to his sofa from which he had presumably rolled off of. The knocking sound resumed and he realized that Carl was indeed outside Merle’s house, knocking on his front door.

“Hold up little man. I’ll be right there!” Grimacing, he pulled himself up using the couch for the leverage and stumbled to the front door.

Opening it he greeted Carl with, “Lock’s broken. Just come on in if ya gotta next time.”

“The baby’s crying and I can’t wake up my Dad.”

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Daryl could see that Carl looked terrified. “Ok, ok. Let’s go take care of Lil’ Asskicker.” Not bothering with shoes, he followed after Carl to the house. The baby did indeed have a set of pipes on her and if Merle’s house had been located any closer to the Grimes’ then her wail would have surely woke him up as well. _Where was Rick?_ Daryl followed Carl into the nursery and picked up Lil’ Asskicker, trying his very best to shush her. Her bottom was sopping wet and he could feel, and smell, that she was in desperate need of a diaper change. He set her down on the changing table and was able to easily remove the soiled diaper.

He turned to Carl, one hand securing the baby and the other holding the soiled diaper. “You got a trash can I can put this in?”

Carl shook his head. “Nah, these go to a washing service. They’re reusable. Lemme get the hamper for you.”

Of course Lori would be the type to use cloth diapers and not disposable ones. Daryl was fairly confident he could figure out how to put on disposable diapers, but cloth? He had cleaned the baby as best he could and at least she had stopped crying but know he was stuck with a Rubik’s cube in the form of a diaper. He played with the cloth for a while, tried to secure it with this massive safety pin that Carl gave him but to no avail.

“You know how to do this?” he asked Carl.

Carl shook his head. The baby started giggling.

“I’m glad you find this funny.” He smiled and tickled her stomach. It was time to consult the internet. “Carl, run to the back house and on one of the side tables you should find an electronic tablet. You know what they look like?” Carl nodded. “Grab it and bring it back here.”

Carl left and then quickly reappeared, almost out of breath, and shoved the tablet towards Daryl.

“Nuh uh, I need both hands to deal with your sister. Go to Google and type in _how to change a cloth diaper_.”

Carl did as he was told. “There’s a YouTube video.”

“Perfect. Put the tablet in front of me and press play.”

It took about 5 repeat viewings but Daryl finally got the hang of it. He picked up the baby and started rocking her back and forth. “Who’s my good Lil’ Asskicker? You are! Yes you are.” He then remembered he had an audience and found Carl looking at him strangely. He put her back in the crib and asked Carl, “Are they supposed to sleep on their backs or on their fronts?” Carl shrugged. Another quick consultation with Google confirmed that infants should be placed on their backs when being put down to sleep. Fairly certain that he hadn’t done anything that would harm the baby he turned to the next Grimes child and said, “Time to get you in bed little man. C’mon, I ain’t seen your room yet.”

Carl’s room was decorated in a fashion one might expect for a middle school aged boy. There were posters of various sports figures and the color blue was featured prominently. He pulled the covers up to Carl’s chin and went to turn the light out when he heard a muffled cry. Sighing, he turned around and sat down on Carl’s bed.

“I know you’re sad man. I lost my mom when I was young too so I know what it’s like.” Daryl left out the part about it actually being his grandma and that she was a mean drunk and chain smoker and he hadn’t really missed her at all.

“I miss Mom but even when she wasn’t able to put me to bed, I was always able to say goodnight to her picture.” Carl gestured to an empty spot on the wall where clearly a large framed picture had hung. “Dad took every photo of her in the house and put them in a box. I don’t know where he put the box and I don’t have any photos of her that aren’t on Facebook.”

“How about I draw a picture of her for you? That way you can keep it under your bed and it will be only for you.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

“I was- am an artist. I mean, I can draw…sometimes. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Will you make pancakes for me tomorrow?”

“Sure, why not? Goodnight Carl.”

“Goodnight Daryl.”

Now for the last member of the Grimes family. He had a fairly complete mental layout of the house so there were only a few possibilities for Rick’s location. The main entrance opened into a foyer with a formal parlor to the left. Immediately beyond was a formal dining room which continued to the kitchen. To the right of the foyer were the kids’ rooms and bathrooms as well as what looked like a spare room with a sliding door next to the baby’s that could be converted into a home office. That left the upstairs, which Daryl had assumed was the master bedroom, and a living room that bridged the kitchen and children’s rooms. He checked the parlor first, no Rick, then found what looked to be Rick’s entire liquor cabinet methodically displayed on the dining room table. Following the trail of beer cans to the living room, Daryl found Rick passed out with a bottle of vodka in his hands. Daryl gently removed the bottle from his hand and shook Rick’s shoulder.

“Go ‘way Carl.” Rick swatted at him.

“Not Carl man. It’s Daryl and we need to get you in bed.”

“Daryl?” Rick opened his eyes.

“In the flesh.” He grabbed Rick’s arm and put it over his shoulder, using his other arm to grab him around the waist. Slowly, very slowly, he moved with Rick towards the general direction of the second floor stairs.

“You comin’ to bed with me?”

“Sure Rick, whatever you say.” Daryl was struggling to keep Rick in an upright position. Rick was apparently handsy when intoxicated and it was like trying to wrestle an eel.

“Hmmm…that’s good. You’re my type. I chased guys like you all during college, ‘fore I got serious with Lori.”

Well, this was a surprise. Family-man Rick Grimes into redneck biker trash?

“Guys like me?” probed Daryl.

“Hmm…yeah. Slim hips, pretty face.”

Daryl supposed Lori and he did have those features in common. They made their way to the stairs where Rick summarily collapsed on the fourth step facing Daryl.

“Guys with slim hips are the _tightest_.” And with that declarative statement, Rick used both hands to grab Daryl’s hips. Having not bothered to change when Carl woke him up, Daryl still had thin cotton sleep pants on and could almost feel the callouses on Rick’s hands. If the situation hadn’t been so bizarre and Rick so drunk, Daryl would have been very uncomfortable that Rick was putting his hands on his person.

“Ok Rick, we need to get you up these stairs.”

Evidently Rick was not done yet. “I would have you ride me like a horse, just like this, up and down, nice and slow. You’d come, screamin’ my name.” Rick squeezed Daryl’s hips to make his point. “Best fuck of your life. I promise.”

Daryl was officially done with this shit. He removed Rick’s hands from his hips, forcefully turned him around to face the stairs and commanded, “crawl”. Rick surprisingly followed his instructions until they got to the foot of the stairs where Daryl had to support his weight until Rick could stumble into bed, but not before grabbing Daryl’s ass a few times. Once Rick was horizontal, he was out cold. Daryl draped a spare sheet over Rick and made his way back to the main floor. Surveying the damage in the living room, he spent a few minutes gathering the empty beer bottles and collecting the half-consumed liquor bottles to be disposed of in the morning. He didn’t want to leave the baby and Carl with Rick in such a state, so he grabbed a spare sheet from the hall linen closet and settled himself on the living room sofa to dream a thankfully dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he made pancakes for Carl again and for Rick, whenever he woke up. He grabbed a change of clothes for himself after he had successfully fed the baby and changed her diaper, and was now consulting the internet for information on how to bathe newborns. Lil’ Asskicker was something of a mess thanks to the last 24 hours. Carl was reading his comic books and Daryl was debating the merits of bathing the baby in the kitchen sink versus wiping her down with a damp cloth when suddenly the doorbell rang. Carl and Daryl looked at each other and together went to answer the door.

It was the lady with silver hair from the funeral reception.

“Oh hi Ms. Smith. Um, everything’s OK now,” said Carl.

She pushed past Carl, didn’t even acknowledge Daryl, and made her way to the baby’s nursery.

Carl turned to Daryl. “I called her first last night when I couldn’t wake up Dad but she didn’t answer and so that’s when I got you.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s my Dad’s friend and also my school principal.”

Ms. Smith came back rocking the baby in her arms. “I see you changed her diaper.” This was directed to Daryl.

“YouTube has excellent instructional videos.”

Ms. Smith eyed him dubiously and then asked Carl, “Where’s your Dad?”

Daryl had no doubt she would be furious to find Rick hung over so he interrupted with, “He’s asleep. As you can see, everything’s under control here.”

“Well then, I’ll go just see that for myself.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea ma’am.” Daryl tried to dart in front of her only to have the baby shoved into his arms.

Ms. Smith arched an eyebrow at him, daring him to stop her with a baby in his hands, and made her ascent up the stairs.

_____________

As Carol ascended the stairs to the second floor, she reminisced about how she had first met Rick a little over 13 years ago when Rick had been a rookie deputy. Her neighbors had called the Sherriff’s Department again on Ed and Rick and his partner at the time had taken the call. It was not the first time the cops had been called to her residence regarding domestic violence, but Rick had made it his mission to get Carol and Sophia away from Ed. Thanks to Rick’s support and encouragement Carol finally gained the courage to leave Ed, even though she had a toddler in tow, and got her life in order. She applied for a teaching position at the local middle school, was able to earn her Master’s in Education, reclaimed her maiden name, and was now Principle of that very same school. She had sole custody of Sophia, a position of importance within the community, and had transformed from a shy, battered wife to a self-confident, strong woman who could stand on her own two feet. She would be forever in Rick’s debt and the least she could do was support him during this extremely difficult time. That didn’t mean, however, that he could ignore his baby and get drunk off his ass.

She entered the master bedroom and was unsurprised to find that Rick smelled like he had fallen asleep in a bar.

She opened all of the blinds and greeted Rick with, “GET. UP.”

Rick opened his eyes slightly and then immediately closed them to protect them against the light. “Carol? What’re you doin’ here?”

“Your son called me in a panic last night. At 2am. Only reason I didn’t come immediately is because the battery on my phone had died and he went straight to voice mail.”

Rick shot up straight out of bed. “The baby?”

“The baby’s fine. Your neighbor, to whom you owe a huge apology, took care of her.”

Rick swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his hands in his head. Carol sat down beside him and put an arm over his shoulder.

“Rick, I know you’re hurting. But you need to get it together. For the baby’s sake and for Carl’s sake. They both need you now.”

“Baby’s not mine.”

“I had wondered. Timing seemed off. But for all intents and purposes, that baby is yours now. I’ve known you for a long time Rick, you’ve always done the right thing. Do the right thing now for that baby. She didn’t ask to be born into this world.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s jus’ hard, this whole thing’s a mess.”

“Well you have me, you have Michonne, and it looks like you can get some free baby sitting out of that neighbor of yours.”

Rick got up. “I’m gonna take a shower. Can you stick around for a few?”

“Yup, no plans for today. While you’re doing that I’d better review a few things with Daryl on how to take care of infants.”

Rick hugged her and gingerly made his way to the bathroom.

Downstairs in the kitchen, she found Daryl struggling to bathe the baby. He had tucked towels along the side of the stainless steel sink and was simultaneously trying to clean her and to not drown her. He was actually doing a pretty good job for someone who clearly had no experience with newborns.

“Here let me help you.” Carol offered.

Relieved, Daryl stepped back and watched her work. “This is really unhygienic.”

Carol laughed. “I’ll get you a plastic bin to bathe her in. It’s much easier.” As she washed the baby, she observed Daryl out of the corner of her eye. “It means a lot, to Rick, that you’re here. Helping out.”

Daryl looked uncomfortable. “It ain’t nothin’.”

“Well, he may still need your help for the first few days so how about a crash course in taking care of an infant?”

Daryl gulped and gave a very unenthusiastic “sure”.

____________

About an hour later, Daryl learned all that he reasonably needed to know in order to keep Lil’ Asskicker alive to fight another day. He learned how often to feed her (every 2-4 hours), how to change her (Carol showed him a changing method employed by cloth diaper users that was apparently a trade secret), how often to change her (8-10 diapers a day?!), how to soothe her when she was distressed, and how to care for her umbilical cord. Feeling fairly worn out, Daryl sat in the nursery rocking chair and feed Lil’ Asskicker while Carol demonstrated how to “swaddle” a baby.

“How do new parents get anything done?” asked Daryl.

“Infants sleep about 16 hours a day. And when they are awake they don’t do much besides sleep and poop.”

With a touch of irony, Daryl mused that this schedule was not so far off from his own.

“How’s my little girl?” Rick finally made an appearance. He looked freshly showered and had shaved.

“She’s doing great!” responded Carol. “Daryl gets an A+ for taking care of her.”

Daryl blushed and looked down at the baby. “Lil’ Asskicker makes it easy.”

“Lil’ Asskicker?” Rick raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, well, I haven’t heard a name so….”

Rick laughed. “Nah, that’s fine. Her name’s Judith.”

“Judith? Where’d that come from?” asked Carol.

“I have no idea but that’s what Lori wanted.”

“Judith’s a good name,” interjected Daryl. “It’s a biblical name. About a girl who leads the Jewish army to victory over the Assyrians.”

Carol looked at Rick, her expression seeming to say _Is this guy for real?_

“She’s just about done. I made some pancakes for you Rick. There’s enough for you too, Carol. Let me finish with the baby and I’ll join you two in the kitchen.”

_________

After Carol had left and Daryl had put Judith down to sleep and Carl had disappeared within the house to parts unknown, Rick was left with Daryl in the kitchen. Rick was nursing his 5th cup of coffee and was watching Daryl reorganize the pantry.

“Um, Daryl about last night….I, uh, didn’t say or do anything impolite did I?” Daryl froze and then turned to answer Rick, which was an answer in and of itself.

“Nah, um, you were pretty out of it.”

“I came on to you, didn’t I?”

Daryl’s eyes widened. “Yeah a little bit, but uh, like I said, you were pretty out of it.”

Rick nodded to himself. “Well, I sincerely apologize. I don’t want you feel uncomfortable around me or in my house.”

“No harm done. Jus’ wondering though, did Lori know?”

Rick smiled. “Of course she did. I’ve always been bi. Despite claims to the contrary, bisexuals do exist and we are slightly more common than unicorns that fart rainbows.” Daryl chuckled. “It was never an issue with her. Like I said, I’m attracted to both sexes and when I got serious with Lori after college I stopped playing the field with both women _and_ men.”

Daryl nodded and re-focused his organizational efforts on the spice rack, scrutinizing each bottle. He turned to Rick and held out one of the bottles. “This bottle of thyme expired over 5 years ago.”

Rick laughed. “Lori was never much of a cook. My skills start and end at the barbeque.”

“When are you going back to work?”

Rick sighed. “I need to get back sooner rather than later. I don’t have that much more vacation time nor sick leave saved up. I’ll probably go back when Carl starts school in two weeks. I wanna spend some time with him and I need to find infant daycare for Judith.”

“I can watch the baby during the day while you take care of business.”

“Really? I know you got work to do Daryl, I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition if I can set up an easel and some paints in the spare bedroom next to the nursery. She sleeps most of the day anyhow so it’s not like it’s interfering with my work.”

“Thanks Daryl. That’ll really help me out while I get back on my feet.”

And so Daryl moved on to tackle the fridge. They probably had some decade-old mustard that needed purging.


	7. Back to the grind

The next two weeks went by quickly. Daryl didn’t fully set up his studio in the spare bedroom which was just as well since he spent most of his time voraciously reading baby blogs on the internet. He had, however, fulfilled his promise to Carl and completed an entire sketchbook of Lori based off of photos he had found on their Facebook page. It was the most inspired he had been for months and even though the sketchbook was done in fairly plain media (mostly colored pencils and watercolor) he was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the end product. Carl was delighted and hugged Daryl to within an inch of his life. And so it was with some sadness that he helped Carl pick out his clothes for the first day of school. It was Sunday and Rick was getting ready to go back to work as well.

“You ready to go back little man?”

“Yeah, I want to see my friends. Also, Dad is getting hard to be around.”

It had not escaped Daryl’s notice that Rick grew increasingly agitated as it became closer to the time he needed to be back at work. He seemed forgetful and somewhat manic, although it was possible that Judith was keeping him up at night. It was almost 9pm so Daryl tucked Carl into bed, checked on Judith one last time, and went to say good night to Rick. Rick was in the kitchen, surrounded by paperwork and bills, as well as some spreadsheets labeled “Budget”.

“Baby’s changed and asleep and Carl just went to bed. His clothes are laid out and I put a sack lunch for him to take in the fridge.”

“Thanks Daryl. I really appreciate your help these past two weeks. You get your freedom back tomorrow.”

“What about Judith?”

“I called around and found a half-way reasonable infant daycare center. I’ll be dropping her off tomorrow.”

“Oh ok. Well I, uh, better go home then.”

“Goodnight Daryl.”

“’Night Rick.”

Daryl let himself into Merle’s house. Truth be told, he had spent very little time here in the past two weeks and had instead spent the majority of his waking hours with the Grimes’ family. He could already feel the soul-crushing depression he had experienced for much of the year come back with a vengeance.

___________

Daryl got up at 6am. And then he realized that he didn’t have to be awake since Rick was mostly likely feeding Judith. One could set a clock by Judith’s feeding times, that little girl wanted to be fed every 4 hours on the dot. No wonder Rick was tired. Even though Daryl had nothing planned he figured he may as well get up and pretend to be productive. A little over an hour later he wasn’t terribly surprised to find Rick at his door.

“I need a favor. The Desk Sergeant scheduled a last-minute “all hands” meeting at 8am and I don’t have enough time to drop Carl off at school and Judith at daycare. Do you mind taking the mini-van and taking care of them for me?”

“Nah, no problem, I’m up.”

Rick looked relieved and passed him a scrap of paper with two addresses on it. “Here are the addresses to the school and the daycare. Carl should be able to direct you to the school and the daycare’s right off the highway.”

“It’s cool. I have GPS on my phone.”

“Thanks Daryl, you have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

They went back to the house where Carl was eating cereal and Judith was napping in her carrier. Rick kissed Carl goodbye and headed out to a squad car driven by a woman who Daryl assumed was Rick’s new partner. Michonne, was it? He vaguely recollected meeting her at the funeral reception.

Daryl quickly secured Judith and Carl in the minivan, part of him in disbelief that he was driving a teal minivan that screamed “soccer mom”, and rushed to get Carl to school on time.

“Who is picking you up?”

“I think Mrs. Smith is dropping me off whenever she gets done with work.”

“How about I pick you up?”

“Really? Thanks Daryl!”

Daryl pulled into the drop-off zone and exited the van to help Carl get his stuff. As he walked Carl over to the teacher in attendance, he saw another parent scoff at him while visibly eyeing him up and down in distaste. Daryl was dressed in his usual painting uniform: torn jeans, paint-splattered sleeveless shirt. The parent in question looked like a stereotypical “southern belle” trophy wife, with big blond hair and enough makeup on to be confused with a Mary Kay representative. _Ok bitch, game on._ Finished with sign-in, Daryl got back into the minivan and resolved, once home, to identify the most “upstanding citizen” outfit he had in his possession.

Next stop was daycare for Judith. Daryl pulled up to a single-family home in a rundown neighborhood with toys littering the front yard. He grabbed Judith and a diaper bag Rick had packed and went to go introduce himself to the caretaker. Once inside, he found utter and complete chaos. Children of all ages were running around, seemingly unsupervised. A harried-looking middle age woman saw him and came his way.

“I’m here to drop off Judith Grimes.”

“Judy? I don’t recollect that name.”

“Her father said he called last week and set it up with you.”

“Nah, wasn’t me. Must’ve been my sister.” She was interrupted by a child’s wails coming from one of the bedrooms. “Damn, that’s Joey. I’ve gotta go handle him. If ya wait a few minutes, I’ll get the paperwork.” Ignoring 2 toddlers vying for her attention, she left to presumably deal with “Joey”.

Daryl noted the scarcity of toys, the apparently large children to adult ratio, the generally filthy state of the main living room, and turned on his heal and left. There was no way he was leaving Lil’ Asskicker in that war zone! He took Judith home and spent the day singing AC/DC songs to her and taking short naps until it was time to go pick up Carl. This time he was ready for “Stuck-up Bitch”. He drew the line at shaving but he pulled his hair back into a small ponytail, put on a powdered blue sweater vest he mysteriously found in his possession, and tailored gray slacks. As he waited outside with Judith and the other parents with flexible schedules, he eyeballed “Stuck-up Bitch” and mentally dared her to say anything snide to her clique, who had claimed the other side of the parking lot.

“That’s Luanne.”

Daryl had been so busy staring down Blondie, he hadn’t noticed that an African-American man around his age had joined him.

“That woman you’re sending death glares to is Luanne. She’s the Queen B of the “mean girls” clique here at Harrison Elementary School. Unless you have ovaries, she doesn’t think you are equipped to handle small children. And if you like kids and are a man, then you must be a child molester.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Tell me about it. I’m a stay-at-home Dad! Name’s Bob Stookey. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Daryl released one hand from supporting Judith and shook Bob’s hand. “Name’s Daryl. Rick Grimes’ is my neighbor and I’m helping him out.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear about what happened to Lori. Well here comes my kid. It’s hard being the only Mr. Mom around here so if you ever want some manly bonding time or to exchange horror stories just give me a call. I’m this year’s PTA head so my number’s in the important contacts part of the School Directory. Nice meeting you Daryl!”

Daryl turned around and saw Carl waiting by the minivan.

“How was the first day of class?”

“It was ok. At least they didn’t give us a ton of homework!”

“I made chocolate chip cookies for you when we get home.”

“Yay, thanks Daryl!”

After they got home, Carl did his homework while Daryl cooked dinner. Around 6pm, Rick returned from work to find Daryl and Carl setting out plates for dinner.

“So, I stopped by the daycare to pick up Judith and imagine my surprise when the lady running the place told me, and I quote, “some dude from a biker gang showed up and then left with the baby.”

“I didn’t know guys in biker gangs drove minivans.”

“Daryl…”

“I couldn’t leave her there Rick. That place was disgusting.”

Rick sighed and rubbed his face. “You’re not wrong but it’s all I can afford. Infant daycare costs more than the mortgage on this place.”

“Then let me look after her. I can get my studio set up in the spare bedroom.”

“I can’t afford to pay you.”

“I know. I ain’t asking for payment. Look, I know it sounds strange but your little girl is helping me getting over something of an artistic slump. Please, let me help you.”

“Fine, ok. But if it gets to be too much, tell me right away. Judith is not your responsibility.”

And that was how Daryl became the Grimes’ family’s “manny”.

________

During the next few weeks, Daryl fell into a routine that had very little to do with art. His daily routine consisted of taking Carl to school, cooking all of the Grimes’ meals, and of course, taking care of Lil’ Asskicker. He initially had purchased a futon and moved it into the nursery so he could nap with the baby but this quickly turned into overnight stays as Rick needed to be alert for work and the baby still needed to be fed every 4 hours. On one of the parenting forums he belonged to, he learned that breast milk was considered vastly superior to the powdered stuff Rick bought and so, thanks to the classifieds on said forum, he was able to purchase breast milk from a local woman who had an oversupply. Most of the moms included their photos in the classifieds but the deciding factor for him was Missy’s frankly awe-inspiring tattoos. He rarely spent any time at Merle’s house anymore. He had moved over most of his clothes and personal belongings to the spare bedroom and he had set up a quasi-studio but he didn’t get much time to paint. It occurred to him that he should be bothered by this, but he really wasn’t. Keeping the Grimes’ family running was a full-time job.

At first Daryl thought that Rick would question him about all of this- it was hardly normal to have your 40 year old male neighbor halt everything in his personal life to take care of your infant, feed your family, and make sure your older child got to school every day but Rick didn’t seem to question it. Daryl figured Rick was still grieving for Lori and probably having hard enough of a time showing up for work each day. At the start of each month, Rick left him $400 in an envelope for food and gas which made Daryl wonder if Rick had ever set foot in a grocery store. Then again, Lori probably cut coupon’s and probably never set foot in the expensive, all-natural grocery stores Daryl frequented. So Daryl ended up paying the vast majority of the Grimes’ family’s expenses, which probably would have represented a huge expense to Rick but was an inconsequential sum to a man used to paying for $100 brunch in Manhattan.

It was almost lunch time and Daryl had an appointment with a house cleaner in 30 minutes. He could feed people, no problem. Clean them? Not so much. He had already hired a gardener (Daryl had never mowed a lawn in his life) and he was hoping this woman recommended to him by Bob would solve his house cleaning problem. The baby and Carl generated enough dirty clothes that he could really use some help keeping on top of it. Rick always posted his schedule on the fridge so Daryl made sure to schedule cleaning/yard work when Rick was on duty. He really didn’t want to explain to Rick how he could afford all this.

All in all, he was too busy to be depressed and fairly content with the Grimes’ family’s mundane daily routine.

__________

It was 6pm and Rick had just arrived home from a long shift. He and Michonne had started the day out with laying a spike strip for some criminal evading arrest and had ended the day with breaking up a fight between parents at a t-ball tournament. As he entered the house, he could smell dinner which brightened his mood considerably. It did strike him as being somewhat odd that his neighbor was so insistent on “being helpful” but nothing in the man’s mannerisms pointed to unsavory predilections towards children and so he was not too worried. Rick mused that Daryl’s behavior would actually make sense if he had designs on Rick but as far as he could tell Daryl wasn’t interested in him. In addition to cooking, cleaning the house, mowing the lawn, taking Carl to and from school, and taking care of Judith, the man even found time to pick up Rick’s dry cleaning! Rick knew he should question it, he really should, but he was too busy being grateful that Lori 2.0 (the no-nagging version) dropped into his lap. In fact, the only thing that would make this situation even better would be if Daryl would ride his lap, preferably naked.

Rick entered the kitchen and saw Carl working on his homework and Daryl bent over his tablet, stirring some floury concoction. Judith was in her portable crib, napping. “What’s for dinner?”

“Lemon chicken with roasted shallots and thyme, a side salad of arugula with hazelnuts, and apple crumble for dessert. It’s almost ready.”

Fancy. One of the first things Rick learned about Daryl was that he was seriously into food and appeared to actually enjoy cooking. Rick could see that Daryl was following some recipe on his tablet from [www.marthastewart.com](http://www.marthastewart.com).

“Martha Stewart? _Really?”_

“Don’t knock my girl! She knows her shit AND she’s done hard time. Which is more than I can say for most of the hosts on the Food network. And just because we’re in the South doesn’t mean we have to eat like we’re in the South- unless you want Paula Deen all up in here and ‘fore you know it you’ll be waddling to your squad car!”

Rick put his hands up, “Ok, ok. No knocking Martha Stewart. I got it. Well, it smells delicious. Carl and I will set the table.”

As they sat down to eat, Rick could hear the wind picking up outside. A loud BOOM echoed in the distance. It was rare for them to get lightning storms this time of year but it had been a long, hot summer and it was rather humid and warm for the end of September.

“Dad, are we gonna get lightning?”

“Maybe. It’s unusual this time of year but not unheard of.”

“Cool! Can I watch cartoons after dinner?”

“Are you done with all of your homework?”

“Sure am!”

“Ok, you get the night off from chores. I’ll help Daryl clean up the kitchen.”

Daryl had needed to attend to Judith and so was still eating dinner while Carl and Rick finished off their desert of apple crumble with vanilla bean ice cream. Rick was washing the dishes when Daryl joined him to put the leftovers in the refrigerator. In addition to making Carl lunch, Daryl also made Rick lunch- something Lori had never done. When Rick pressed him on it, Daryl mumbled something about Rick trying to save money and it was healthier. While Rick couldn’t dispute that Daryl’s lunches were healthier than fast food but he wasn’t so sure they were cheaper- his colleagues at the station routinely attempted to swipe his lunch and even Michonne was lobbying for Rick to get Daryl to make her lunch. Daryl always packed way too much and so Rick usually ended up sharing it with Michonne anyway. As they finished cleaning up, streaks of lightning lit up the sky. A smattering of rain pelted the windows but Rick could tell that it would soon be pouring outside.

“So, what do you have planned for tomorrow?” Daryl asked. It was Rick’s day off and Carl had school.

“Not sure. Probably sleep in some if that’s ok with you. Did ya need me to do something?”

“Nah, was just curious. Well, I’d better get Judith ready for bed.”

A loud crack emanated from the back yard.

“Wow!” exclaimed Rick. “That was a close one.” He and Daryl had moved to the window overlooking the kitchen sink and were trying to see which direction the lightning was coming from. Then Rick smelled something burning.

“You smell that?” asked Rick.

“Sure do. Smells like wood burning. Do you think the lightning hit one of the trees?”

“Not sure. I’m gonna put on my rain gear and check outside.” Fortunately Rick’s rain gear and flashlight were in the entryway closet so he quickly donned said apparel and moved to exit the house via the kitchen door in the back.

With Daryl at his side, Rick opened the back door only to find the back house, Merle’s house, engulfed in flames.


	8. A Redneck Martha Stewart

It was early morning and Rick had just returned from dropping Carl off at school. Rick found Daryl outside, holding Judith and turning over pieces of the back house with his foot. The fire department had come out as quickly as possible last night but the combination of cheap building materials plus some highly combustible turpentine Daryl had stored in the house led to the entire structure being destroyed.

“I called the insurance company after you left.” Daryl said. “They referred me to a service that will do the cleanup and submit it as part of the insurance claim.”

“Will insurance cover the costs?”

“Yeah but my brother didn’t have much equity in the place. The land is not even worth $25k.” Daryl wandered over to Rick’s house and sat on the back steps. Except for that night at the bar, Rick had never seen Daryl so despondent. Rick sat down next to him.

“You got anywhere else to go?”

“Nah,” Daryl muttered. “It’s funny, house fires seem to run in my family. My Ma liked to smoke in bed. She died in a house fire when I was younger than Carl. Kinda’ ironic, ain’t it? Amazing how she and the house were just, were just _erased_ …like they ain’t never existed. Just like this house, like ol’ Merle….”  

Rick flinched and struggled to find some reassuring words. “You can stay with me and my family for as long as you like,” Rick offered. Daryl seemed surprised by this. _Why_ Rick could not fathom since Daryl had been a fourth member of their family since Lori had died.

“Thanks Rick. I, uh, really appreciate it.” Daryl’s eyes glistened slightly.

“Well, that settles it!” He got up and motioned Daryl to do the same. “You can reward me with pancakes.”

A smile peaked out from Daryl’s lips. “You got it man. Gotta earn my keep ‘round here!”

And so Rick got to enjoy blueberry pancakes with lemon zest and real maple syrup as well as home-brewed hickory coffee. Adding to the enjoyment of his meal, he no longer felt uneasy about his over-reliance on Daryl, justifying to himself that at least their relationship was more equal now.

_________

As Daryl became more of a full-fledged member of the family, he also became more involved with Carl’s activities at school. It was almost Halloween and he was getting debriefed on all upcoming holiday-related activities from Bob Stookey while waiting with Judith for Carl to get out of school.

“There’s the Halloween parade, where all the kids walk in a circle in their costumes. And then there’s the Thanksgiving play- the kids get divided into Native Americans and Pilgrims. And then there’s all of the Christmas-related things-“

“What about Hanukah? Kwanza? EID?” interrupted Daryl.

“This community is 95% Christian. We usually have to be sensitive to the Jehovah’s Witness’ but that’s about it.”

“Oh ok, was ‘jus wondering.”

“So then after Christmas- uh oh, don’t look now but Luanne is coming over here…”  

Indeed Daryl’s nemesis was sauntering her way over to them. She initially had made only slightly-snide comments about Daryl’s parenting skills, but Daryl didn’t do passive aggressive so their weekly banter degenerated into a quid-pro-quo exchange of insults.

“Hello Daryl, have any squirrels been left alive in your neighborhood? And how is the little princess today?

“Lil’ Asskicker is doin’ just fine. The Stepford Wives called looking for their village idiot. Oh, they must’ve meant you.”

“Ha ha,” she responded with a smirk. “Well, as Dr. Stookey no doubt told you, the Halloween Extravaganza is coming up soon and I am in charge of refreshments. I suppose it is a lot to ask of someone with your limited cooking skills but we still have some items that need to be assigned. Unfortunately, cooked road kill is not one of them. Perhaps you could bring a tablecloth?”

“What d’ya need?” Daryl spit out through his teeth. The baby could sense his irritation at Stuck-up Bitch and started to fuss.

“We still need someone to bring fruit salad, juice, milk, cake-“

“I’ll bring a cake.”

Stuck-up Bitch raised an eyebrow. “If it’s store-bought then make sure it doesn’t have any artificial dyes as little Suzy is allergic-“

“It’ll be homemade.”

“Well then, the _Harrison Elementary School Halloween Parade & Festival_ cannot wait to see what a redneck Martha Stewart will bring.” Stuck-up Bitch smiled evilly, marked Daryl’s name down on her clipboard, and sauntered back to her groupies.

“You know, she only picks on you because you react,” noted Bob.

Annoyed, Daryl looked at Bob, “You never told me you were a Doctor.”

Bob laughed. “I’m semi-retired. Sasha’s the one who still practices. I only write in medical journals every once in a while.”

“Now I know who to call at 2am when I can’t get Judith to settle down.”

“And this is why I don’t tell people that I’m an MD.”

“Well if you want anymore ‘manly-bonding time’ then you’d best be prepared to pay up in free medical services.”

Bob laughed and clapped him on the back. “Fair enough. Here come the kids.”

It never failed to amuse Daryl that Carl would always come running towards him, like he couldn’t wait to escape school. Then again, Carl pretty much ran everywhere so maybe it wasn’t that unusual. As he secured Judith in her car seat, he asked Carl about his day.

“It was OK. I got an A on my spelling test!”

“Good job little man.”

Carl beamed at Daryl’s praise but then his face fell. “The Halloween parade is in a week and I don’t have a costume. Mom usually got me something at the thrift store but this year…I don’t really want to ask Dad.”

Rick was still having a hard time of it. He didn’t seem to be sleeping well and Daryl caught him a few times having half-asleep conversations with his dead wife in the living room. Daryl was usually able to corral him into bed but Rick’s grief and justified anger were palpable and his depressed mood hung over the house.

“No worries little man. I’ll hook you up. What do you want to be?”

“Really? Thanks Daryl! I wanna be a zombie!”

Oh, Daryl _so_ had this.

_________

The Halloween Parade was on Friday, which gave Daryl three days to get Carl’s costume together and bake a cake that would grant him a reprieve from Stuck-Up Bitch for at least a week. The costumes ended up being the easiest part. He took Carl’s most worn-out clothing and distressed it even further, rubbing dirt and fake blood into it. He had first driven two towns over to a specialty make-up store where he purchased the make-up and fake blood that he would need to zombiefy Carl and himself. He couldn’t quite bring himself to zombiefy Judith, so he purchased a dress for her made out of orange tulle and that came with a headband shaped like a leaf so she could be a little pumpkin. It was pretty, but more importantly not Princess-like.

The cake proved to be a more difficult challenge. He initially had wanted to do a tiered layer cake but he had never used marzipan nor fondant before and unfortunately the cakes with the more intricate designs required that. However he was nothing if not a classically-trained fine artist, so he settled on baking a red velvet sheet cake with cream-cheese frosting that he could decorate. Thanks to _Craftsy_ , he figured out how to airbrush a design on said sheet cake and thanks to _Wal*Mart_ he was able to make a last-minute purchase of said food-related airbrushing equipment. He considered doing a graveyard scene with corpses rising from their graves but then thought that might be too scary and so instead did a haunted house with friendly ghosts and smiling jack o’lanterns.

It was the night before the parade and he was applying edible yellow glitter to the jack o’lanterns on the cake, to make it appear as if they were “glowing”, when Rick came up flush behind him, placed his hand on Daryl’s hip and looked over Daryl’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if we should eat it or frame it.”

Daryl bent over the cake to dust the night sky with edible silver flakes, with the intent of dislodging Rick’s hand from his hip. He was unsuccessful. “It’s a bit much for a school party but I want to show Stuck-Up Bit- err, Luanne, that I can bake.”

Rick laughed and squeezed his hip. “Stuck-Up Bitch is right. Well, I’m turning in but I’ll see you guys in the afternoon after my shift.” Rick patted him once more and turned to go upstairs.

Rick was one of those touchy-feely guys, free with hugs and liberal with kisses. Daryl knew it wasn’t specific to him, he was pretty sure he saw Rick kiss Bob once on the cheek, but he wasn’t used to such freely given affection. He had to consciously not tense up when Rick grabbed at him, which was often, and once he got over the shock of another human being invading his personal space he even grew to like it. Sometimes he fantasized about what it would be like to do more than just hug Rick, maybe even kiss him. But then reality got in the way and Daryl realized a guy like Rick would never go for someone as inexperienced as him. The thought should have depressed Daryl, but in a way he was relieved. No one had ever aggressively pursued him, potential suitors were thwarted by Daryl’s self-enacted bubble of personal space, and he wouldn’t know what to do in a romantic encounter anyhow.

________

Daryl had to get up two hours earlier than usual in order to get Carl made-up in addition to his usual morning routine. Actual school instruction was limited to a half-day and afterwards the parents were invited to view the “parade” and have lunch with the kids. Rick wasn’t coming until later so Daryl was responsible for taking pictures. He had put Lil’ Asskicker in a kangaroo pouch on the front of his chest so he could have both hands free to take photos. Everyone was very impressed with Zombie Carl and he won “Scariest Costume”.

After lunch, it was “cake time” and Luanne made a big show of whispering to some of the other parents that Daryl had made the cake and not to expect too much. When Daryl unveiled the cake, to the oohs and aahs of parents and kids alike, he made sure to look in Luanne’s direction. “This is a an all-organic red velvet sheet cake with cream cheese frosting. All of the glitter is edible and the cake’s red coloring comes from pureed beets and not Red Dye so Suzy can have some too.”

Little Suzy managed to be the first in line for a slice and she looked like Christmas had come early. After each adult and kid had a slice, little Suzy’s mother thanked him profusely for thinking about her daughter’s dietary restrictions. As the parents and kids alike drifted to the playground to burn off their sugar highs, Luanne sauntered over to Daryl with a piece of cake in hand.

“Well? Too salty? Too sweet? What?” Daryl interrogated her, as she polished off the last bit of frosting with her fork.

“Hmmm…I’ve got nothing. This is truly delicious. Would you mind sharing the recipe? My husband loves red velvet cake and this is the best I’ve ever had.”

And so, Daryl earned himself another surprisingly ally at Harrison Elementary School.

__________

Rick was late for the Halloween parade and hoped he hadn’t missed everything. Michonne had to finish processing a suspect so Rick was by himself and resisting the urge to turn on the lights and sirens. As he pulled up to the School, he saw that most of the parents had already dispersed.

“Dad!” yelled a small kid, who looked like a zombie but sounded like his son.

“Carl?”

“It’s me! What do you think? Daryl did my face.” Carl ran up to him and gave him a hug. “C’mon and have some cake. Daryl saved a slice for you.” Carl grabbed Rick’s hand and tugged him over to where Daryl was straddling a park bench and feeding Judith. He had on red contacts, white face paint, and was a stark contrast to Judith, who looked like a pumpkin princess. Rick sat down next to them and dug into the slice of cake.

“This is good!”

“Of course it is. I made it.” Daryl scoffed.

“And you’re so humble too. How’d Luanne like it?”

“She liked it so much she invited me to her annual Christmas cookie decorating party in December. I’m to bring my favorite sugar cookie recipe and airbrush. I’m gonna show her how to use the airbrush and she’s gonna show me how to make her Grandma’s Molasses Gingerbread Man cookies.”

Rick startled chuckling. “None can resist the charms of Daryl Dixon for long.”

“Shuddup.” Daryl blushed and punched Rick in the shoulder.

Bob walked up to them and greeted Rick. “Say, you got the whole family here. Want me to take a picture?”

“Yeah that’s a good idea.” Daryl got up and handed Judith to Rick. He started fiddling with the lens and asked Carl to move in closer to his father.

“No, I meant you too Daryl,” said Bob.

Daryl looked to Rick, “Are ya sure? I mean I’m not-“

“Bob’s right. Come over here,” Rick gestured with his free arm to Daryl to sit on his right side. Carl was seated to the left of him, Judith was cradled in his left arm, and so he put his right arm around Daryl. Bob took a few photos and then gave the camera back to Daryl. Later that evening after everyone was in bed, Daryl uploaded the photos to the family’s online account. Even with Carl and Daryl’s zombie faces, they all looked happy and like a real family. Rick had the most genuine smile Daryl had ever seen on him and Bob had even managed to get a photo with the baby laughing. The Grimes’ family was not his family by blood, Daryl mused, but they were probably the closest thing to family that he would ever get to experience.

__________

It was almost Thanksgiving and Daryl was helping Carol with the scenery for the school Thanksgiving play. When he had introduced himself as a “painter”, she thought he meant house painter but given his skill with a brush she could now see that he was indeed a fine artist. He was a conundrum she couldn’t quite figure out. Last month while she was helping him out with Judith, Daryl had wanted to go to the local pumpkin patch to get some pumpkins he could carve with Carl (of course, Daryl’s ending up being a masterpiece) but she hadn’t anticipated the impromptu trip and had left her warmer coat at home. Daryl told her to borrow something from him so she rifled through his closet looking for a jacket or a sweater. She eventually found a warm looking poncho but not before combing thru an assortment of J Crew collared shirts, True Religion jeans, and an Armani suit that was pushed to the back of the closet in the spare bedroom. On a daily basis he mostly wore torn cloth pants of indeterminable fabric and grey Henley’s, but at official school functions he was always dressed extremely well. Carol wasn’t knowledgeable about fashion whatsoever but even she recognized these brands and the expensive clothing didn’t quite jive with a man who, thanks to the generosity of his neighbor, wasn’t homeless after his house burned down.

Daryl was painting a very colorful, very detailed turkey in the background scenery. Carol had given him free artistic range to do whatever he wanted and so he had painted a New England town with life-size pilgrims and Native Americans interspersed throughout. He had borrowed some books from the school library and was consulting them for historical accuracy while Carol fed Judith.

“You know, we usually just have green hills and clouds as the background.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It is. I think I’ll store your murals after this is over. They’re too good to recycle as firewood.”

Daryl gave her a dirty look. “These are the best background murals you’ll ever have! I better see them again next year.” He moved on from painting the turkey to embellishing the Chieftain’s elaborate feathered headpiece. “Is Luanne almost done with the costumes?”

“Yup, we’re all set for this Friday.” That was another surprise to Carol. Luanne was notoriously difficult to get along with but after the Halloween Parade she had been not only been cordial to Daryl but also downright friendly to him. And after she learned that Daryl subscribed to her idol’s magazine, _Martha Stewart Living_ , whatever animosity she had harbored towards him had been firmly tabled. Due to their mutual love of cooking they often exchanged recipes and baking tips.

Daryl looked to be just about done so she secured Judith in her carrier and gathered up the baby accoutrements. Once done, she walked over to where Daryl was kneeling over a bucket of soapy water and, with intense concentration, was rinsing out his brushes. She didn’t think he had heard her approach so she reached out to tap him on the shoulder only to have him violently scuttle back and fall on his behind. He recovered quickly but any doubt that Carol had had that he was a fellow abuse survivor vanished.

“Uh, sorry, didn’t hear ya behind me.” Daryl got up and resumed his task of cleaning the brushes.

“Who hit you?”

Daryl looked up at her and with exaggerated outrage said, “Excuse you?”

“C’mon Daryl. Don’t bullshit me. I know better than anyone what abuse looks like.”

For a long time Daryl wouldn’t look up at her, he just continued to methodically clean his brushes. When she had just about given up on him answering her, he whispered, “M’ granddad. An’ grandma.” She crouched next to him, not touching him, but close enough that she could see his hands shaking slightly. “Should be over it by now. It was over 20 years ago and they’re both long-dead.”

“That’s not how trauma works Daryl. Have you ever talked to anybody about it? Gone to counseling?”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, just painted.”

Carol reached over and gently held both of his paint-smudged hands within hers. “When you’re ready, I can refer you to some good resources. But in the meantime, would you consider reaching out to me if you want to talk about it?”

Daryl finally looked her in the eyes and nodded.


	9. Under the mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to everyone who commented or left kudos!

Thanksgiving quickly rolled into Christmas. It was early December and Rick found Daryl and Carl in the living room decorating the Christmas tree they had selected the previous day at the local tree farm. Daryl and Carl had made a lot of progress while Rick was at work and they were currently stringing a homemade popcorn garland. The popcorn had been liberally doused with silver glitter, some of which found its way on to Daryl’s goatee. He looked _adorable._ Rick had already changed at the station so he toed his shoes off, kissed Carl on his head, and sat on the floor next to Judith. She had recently started teething and would shove just about anything into her mouth so they had to be vigilant that nothing harmful lay in her immediate grasp. Christmas had been Lori’s favorite time of year and Rick felt guilty that he couldn’t muster up any holiday cheer for Carl and the baby. It would be their first Christmas without her.

“Place looks real festive,” Rick commented.

“Thanks. Uh, I mean, you don’t mind?” Daryl replied.

“Nah, of course not. S’ good to get into the holiday spirit. We should throw a Christmas party. That is- if you’d like to?”

“We could have one the Saturday before Christmas. Luanne’s been braggin’ ‘bout her eggnog plus Bob’s been on me to meet his wife.”

“Great. I’ll invite Carol and Michonne and some other folks from the Station.”

“Is this shindig adults only?”

“Nah, we can set up kid-friendly food in the kitchen and put all the stuff for the adults in the dining room. The kids can play games in the den while the adults enjoy their adult beverages up front in the formal room.”

Rick took advantage of Daryl’s intense concentration on stringing popcorn to observe his former neighbor. He was wearing a black turtleneck, jeans and socks despite the warmth of the house. One thing Rick noticed about Daryl, especially after Daryl started living with them, was that Daryl rarely exposed any skin- even if it was downright hot outside. Rick had seen him once in a sleeveless shirt, and hadn’t failed to admire his biceps, but Daryl usually remained covered up. In a house filled with guys and an infant, one would think he’d at least be comfortable wandering around the house shirtless like Rick often did and Carl sometimes did.

“Carl, why don’t you get washed up? It’s almost time for dinner.” As Carl scampered off Rick addressed Daryl, “Are you sure this holiday party won’t be too much trouble? I’m afraid with my holiday work schedule I won’t be of much help to ya.”

“Nah, Luanne loves to throw parties. She’ll be more than happy to micromanage me.”

Rick grabbed Judith, stood up, and walked over to Daryl. He reached towards Daryl’s face but Daryl jerked back before he could connect.

“Uh, you got some glitter on your nose.”

Daryl wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Must’ve been from the popcorn. Did I get it?”

“Yeah you got it.” Rick was disappointed, the moment ended up being not nearly as romantic as he had anticipated. And with that stray thought Rick realized with equal parts exhilaration and dismay that he was falling in love with Daryl Dixon.

___________

It was the night of the party and Daryl was making last minute preparations. Thanks in part to _Martha Stewart’s Holiday Survival Guide_ , Daryl felt that he had really outdone himself with the food and decorations. He had shaved and even gotten his hair trimmed a bit earlier in the day and was debating on whether or not he should wear grey wool slacks or dark jeans with his favorite cashmere black turtleneck. Choosing comfort over style, he opted for the gray slacks and went to go help Judith put her holiday dress on. She was only about 5 months old but was already wearing onesies for 6-9 month olds. Daryl had driven all the way out to Atlanta in order to patronize Nordstrom’s and he had picked a fashionable Burberry-patterned sleeveless dress for her. He hid the purchase from Rick and claimed he got it at the local thrift store for a buck fifty. Only Nordstrom and his credit card company would know that the decimal should be placed 2 digits to the right. Moments after he finished squeezing her into her dress (Judith had adopted the rest of the family’s resistance to clothing and struggled with Daryl when he was trying to dress her), Daryl heard Rick greeting the first guests to arrive out in the foyer. Daryl scooped up the giggling Judith and went to go greet their guests.

“Daryl? Is that you my man?” It was Bob, presumably with his wife Sasha, and two small children. They were wearing hideous, matching holiday sweaters- Sasha and Bob that is, not the kids.

Sasha shook his hand while the two kids ran off to join Carl in the den. “Thank you for keeping my husband sane.”

“No problem ma’am. It’s nice to have someone to box with. Can’t get soft out here just ‘cause we’re in suburbia.” Daryl chatted with Sasha and Bob for a little while about their respective fitness routines but he was soon interrupted by Luanne who need a second opinion as to whether the eggnog needed more rum (it needed less, a LOT less, but what was done was done).

More guests arrived and soon the dining room and living room were overfilled with people, most of whom wanted to know from Rick if they could borrow Daryl…forever. Ordinarily the attention would have unnerved him, but Luanne’s eggnog had mellowed Daryl out. He had extended an invite to the Greene family and was pleasantly surprised when Beth, Hershel and his wife, Hershel’s other daughter Maggie and her boyfriend Glenn had all shown up. Beth was a lifesaver- she supervised the kids’ activities (pin the red nose on the reindeer, sugar cookie decorating, Wii bowling) so Daryl was freed up for the rest of the evening to man the kitchen (and the bar).   The evening was a great success but thankfully by 10pm most folks were rounding up their kids to head home. Daryl was attempting to clean up the disaster area formerly known as the kitchen when Sasha cornered him.

“Daryl, I really cannot thank you enough for befriending my husband.” Daryl thought that statement should be the other way around but didn’t get a chance to argue as she grabbed both of his hands and squeezed them with a death grip. “He gets lonely and when he gets lonely…well, I know he’s confided in you so I just want to say thank you.” She released his hands only to envelope him in a big hug. She was a petite woman but Bob had told him she did CrossFit and he was certainly feeling that strength, squeezing the life out of him, first hand. Looking teary-eyed, she finally released him and made her exit.

 _Were all the people in King County this emotional?_ He couldn’t recall having this effect on people in Manhattan but then again he hadn’t really gotten that close to anyone in his previous life.

By 11pm all of the guests were gone, Carl and Judith were asleep, and Rick joined Daryl to finish cleaning up the kitchen. Rick had been even more handsy than usual that evening, but since neither he nor Daryl had to drive anywhere after the party they had both consumed more than their fair share of alcohol. As they were leaving the kitchen Rick grabbed Daryl’s elbow, said “look”, and pointed to a green sprig tacked to the underside of the doorway.

“Huh, who put that there?” Daryl reached up to remove it but Rick batted his hand away.

“Nuh uh. You gotta follow tradition.” Even in the dim light Daryl was sure that Rick could see he had turned bright red. Figuring that Rick had had too much to drink and that he may as well comply, he leaned in to give Rick a quick peck on the cheek but Rick turned his face at the very last second and kissed Daryl fully on the lips. No tongue, but a definite mashing of lips. Daryl froze, eyes widening, but before he could do anything else Rick released him and turned to go upstairs.

“Goodnight Daryl.”

“Guh, ‘Night Rick.” Stunned, Daryl brought his fingertips to his lips. He couldn’t decide if he was elated by his first kiss or outraged that it was such a cliché.

__________

The next day Rick sat in his squad car with Michonne, on break, drinking his 3rd cup of coffee. Fortunately they hadn’t had the early shift and both he and Michonne had paperwork and meetings all morning, but the previous night’s festivities were a painful reminder that he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

“Fun party last night,” remarked Michonne.

“Yeah,” Rick replied distractedly.

“Daryl was lookin’ mighty fine. Very GQ.”

“Oooooh yeah,” Rick replied, still distracted but much more enthused.

“You wanna tap that?” inquired Michonne.

Rick snapped out of his musings and fixed Michonne with an annoyed look, finally giving her his undivided attention. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early for me to be moving on from Lori?”

“Maybe,” Michonne allowed. “But you’re no good alone Rick. And if the one good thing that comes out of this tragedy is a new life with a new man, I say go for it. Who’s to say the next ‘routine traffic stop’ won’t be our last? You know that better than anybody.”

“Well, it ain’t that simple.”

“I have all day.”

“He’s takin’ care of my kids and I aint’ about to jeopardize that. Our relationship is unequal; yes I get free babysitting but he needs a roof over his head. Don’t seem right to take advantage of that.”

“Ok, I’ll give you that. What if he’s interested?”

“I don’t even know if he’s into men. _Or_ women for that matter. He never talks about past relationships, movie crushes, or anybody that he thinks is attractive. As far as I can tell the man’s a monk.”

Michonne couldn’t argue with that and they lapsed into silence.

“I kissed him last night.”

“You did WHAT? How?”

Rick got a sheepish grin on his face. “Somebody’d tacked mistletoe on the kitchen entryway so I took advantage of it and kissed him.” At Michonne’s scandalized expression Rick further elaborated, “Nothin’ dirty! Just a chaste kiss on the lips.”

“How’d he take it?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. I high tailed it upstairs afterwards.”

They sat in silence each lost to their respective thoughts.

“At least he didn’t punch you.”

“No, that he did not,” Rick nodded in agreement.

“So there’s hope?”

Rick grinned and conceded she had a point.

_________

“The kiss” was never discussed between them. Daryl thought about bringing it up but then Rick acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened so he let it slide, only to be brought up in the dark recesses of his mind when he was feeling melancholy. Fortunately, Daryl didn’t have much free time to waste on melancholy. It was Christmas Eve and Rick finally, FINALLY, got Carl in bed and Daryl was arranging presents under the Christmas tree. Carl still believed in Santa, despite his protests to the contrary, so Daryl ate a cookie and took a sip of the milk that was left for “Santa”. He then grabbed some soot from the fireplace and led “tracks” from the side door to the Christmas tree. Rick’s co-workers had gotten together and bought stuff off of Carl’s wish list and even a few things for the baby so space was at a premium for Daryl to hide the gifts he had purchased for the family.

He had heavily debated for some time what to get Rick. Fortunately Michonne was able to point him in the right direction. He learned that Rick had owned a cherished .357 Magnum Colt Python Revolver that he lost (or more likely was stolen) during college. Unfortunately, the manufacturer had ceased production around the same time and the specific edition Rick had owned was difficult and expensive to procure. Daryl didn’t know much about guns but after a web search and a few phone calls later he was able to locate an antique gun shop in Atlanta that had one for sale. Even he was a little shocked at the price ($10k for an old gun?!) but the shop keeper insisted that it was the “Rolls Royce” of Colts and hardly used so therefore worth the price. Daryl had wrapped it (sans ammunition- Rick took gun safety seriously and kept all of his personal guns in a hidden safe that not even Daryl knew the location nor combination of) in the most obnoxious holiday wrapping paper he could find and attached a post-it note with **TO: rick, FROM: santa** sloppily written on it. Satisfied with the tree, he moved on to stuffing Carl’s and Rick’s stockings with green army men and candy canes.    

“How’s it coming along, Santa?” asked Rick, as he sat down on the couch.

“Your department really came through. Carl’s gonna be pleased.” Daryl struggled to align each stocking at a 45 degree angle.

“I’m grateful to them. I jus’ couldn’t get it together in time for Christmas. It ain’t right for Carl to have to go through the holidays without his Mother. Though heck, the kid’s doin’ better than I am dealin’ with all of this.”

Daryl, finally satisfied with the symmetry of each stocking, sat down next to Rick. “Kids can take a lot. Sometimes more than grown-ups. You seein’ that grief counselor Carol recommended?”

“Dale? Yeah, I suppose it helps to have someone to talk to. He says I’m stuck on the ‘anger’ stage of grievin’. No shit buddy, my wife cheated on me with my best friend and left me with their kid to raise!”

Daryl wondered if Rick ever remembered the midnight, half-asleep conversations he would have with ghost-Lori, begging her to not be dead, in this very living room. Daryl couldn’t really relate to Rick’s situation- sure he felt grief and maybe even some guilt over Merle’s death but frankly Merle had been practically a stranger to Daryl even when he was alive. Furthermore, losing whatever he considered Merle’s to be to him was nothing like losing a spouse.

Daryl could not suppress a yawn so he got up from the couch and grabbed the excess wrapping paper to hide in Judith’s nursery. “Well, if I’m Santa then that makes you Mrs. Clause so you’d best get to bed so you can get at least four hours of sleep before Carl wakes up.”

“Nah, you’re Mrs. Clause. You look better in a frilly apron.”

Daryl whacked Rick on the head with the roll of spare wrapping paper he was carrying and headed off to bed.

___________

The next morning, if 5am qualified as morning and not still evening, Daryl awoke to Carl jumping on his bed.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Time to open presents!”

Daryl groaned. “What about your old man? Go get him first.”

“He told me he would get up when you got up. So, time for you to get UP!”

“Ok, ok. I’m comin’. Lemme grab your sister and a camera. No opening presents until your Dad is there!”

Daryl yawned and forced himself out of bed. Outwardly he may have appeared grumpy but secretly he was almost as excited as Carl to open gifts. His family had never had a Christmas tree when he was growing up and the only gift he had ever received from Merle was a pack of smokes and condoms on his 16th birthday. He grabbed his camera and scooped Judith out of her crib to go join Rick and Carl in the living room. Rick still looked asleep and Carl was happily pointing out the soot “tracks” and eaten cookies to his father. Daryl unloaded Judith on Rick and readied the camera.

“Ok Carl, you can start in 3-2-“, without delay Carl torn open the largest package. It was a _Star Wars Lego_ set complete with a _Millennium Falcon_ and Han, Chewie, Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker Lego people. Carl was obsessed with Star Wars and wanted to be Han Solo when he grew up (who _didn’t_ want to be Han?). The next gift was from Michonne and was a T-shirt with “Han Shot First” and the first volume of a graphic novel based in the Star Wars universe. Carl put the shirt on over his pajamas. “Wow! Cool! What do you think Dad?”

“Dad” was drooling into Judith’s hair but Daryl made sure to get a photo of Carl with the shirt on for Michonne. Carl haphazardly tore through his presents, emptied his stocking (and his Dad’s) of all green army men and arranged them protectively around the Millennium Falcon, then declared “this Christmas to be the best Christmas ever”. Satisfied that he had enough photos to show off at school and at the station, Daryl asked Carl to help him gather the wrapping paper before Judith could shove it in her mouth.

“Hey Dad! This one’s for you!” Carl ran over to his father holding the gift that Daryl had purchased for Rick. Daryl continued to clean up the room but kept Rick in his peripheral vision while he opened the gift.

“So did Santa think I was _naughty_ or nice this year?” Rick flirtatiously asked Daryl.

“Guess you’re gonna have to open it to find out.”

Rick smirked and lifted open the cover of the box containing the Colt. Daryl could see his fingers reverently tracing the weapon, but Rick’s stillness and prolonged silence unsettled him.

“Um, Michonne said you used to have a gun like this and-“

“Where did you find this?” interrupted Rick.

“Um, this guy was sellin’ it…on Craiglist…so….uh, if you don’t like it-“

“I love it. Thank you. This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten,” Rick said sounding a bit choked up. “Let me go put it away.”

Rick came back a few minutes later with a package wrapped in newspaper. He shoved it towards Daryl. “Uh, me an’ Carl got you a little somethin’. Here, um…open it!”

Daryl torn open the newspaper wrapping (Rick must’ve wrapped it- not even Carl was so wasteful with tape). It was a book on art, entitled “STREET ART”, and featured 20 of the edgiest graffiti artists in New York City to appear in the past decade. Daryl should know, Murphy MacManus wrote the forward.

Daryl forced a smile and with fake enthusiasm said, “Thanks Rick, uh, this is really cool.”

Daryl’s performance was not good enough to fool Rick. “Ah hell! Carl an’ me got this at the bookstore. I wanted to get you _Martha Stewart’s Homekeeping Handbook_ but the woman at the store helpin’ me out told me that if her husband gave her that book for Christmas she would throw him out!”

Daryl gave a genuine laugh. Rick grabbed the book from him.

“I still have the receipt. I’m gonna exchange it tomorrow for what you really want. Which is more Martha!”

“Well, you ready for some Xmas pancakes?”

“Sure! What makes Xmas pancakes different from regular old pancakes?” Rick picked up Judith from the floor, fortunately in time to rescue the green army men she had been crawling towards.

“Eggnog.” Daryl turned around to head towards the kitchen but was stopped by Rick grabbing the tail of his shirt.

“Thanks Daryl. You bein’ here…with me…with the kids...it means everythin’.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say to that so he grabbed Rick’s hand, interlaced their fingers, and led Rick and Judith to the kitchen.


	10. The Truth, as inevitable as death and taxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm caught up to my completed chapters so updates will be a bit slower from here on out. Thanks for the love everybody!

It was late January and Daryl dumped all of his tax-related documents on the side table in his room. He sat on his bed and proceeded to review each of the various forms he needed to deliver to his CPA. He hadn’t actually sold any paintings last year (although he had earned some royalties on a few prints he still had in circulation) but he needed to report the proceeds from the sale of his Manhattan home since he had made a profit well beyond the $250,000 IRS exclusion. The sale, coupled with the income he had earned from his various stock investments plus the insurance payout for Merle’s house, ensured that he would have a fairly substantial tax bill come April 15th. Satisfied that he had everything in order he shoved all of the forms into a manila envelope, not realizing that the stub from the 2.5 million dollar check from the escrow company fell to the ground.

_________

Later that day Rick came home to an empty house. Daryl had texted him earlier to say that he was “taking Carl to a friend’s house for a sleepover; will stop by store; want anything special for dinner?” Rick took a shower and mused how he was going to advance the _Seduce Daryl_ agenda. It was a little underhanded but Rick had noticed that Daryl was significantly more relaxed around him after a good meal and a few glasses of wine so Rick had saved a nice bottle of red that he had received from the Chief for Christmas. As he was towel-drying his hair he heard a beeping sound in the direction of Daryl’s room. Rick knew that sometimes Daryl would set an alarm in the afternoon if he took a nap with Judith so he wouldn’t oversleep and forget to pick up Carl. Judith was with Daryl so Rick figured he had forgotten to turn it off earlier in the day. The beeping alarm was on top of a manila folder that lay on the top of the only table in Daryl’s “room”. Looking around and noticing the sparseness of furnishings, Rick momentarily felt bad about providing such a shabby room to his permanent house guest. _Well, if “Seduce Daryl” succeeds then he’ll be sleeping with me,_ thought Rick as he turned off the alarm. He saw a scrap of paper on the floor, assumed it had fallen out of the manila folder, and bent to pick it up. Rick saw that it was a check stub, saw it was made out to a Daryl Dixon for the amount of $2,520,312.34, and then only saw red.

________

Daryl pulled into the Grimes’ driveway; he saw the squad car up front and was glad to see Rick was home. He was planning on cooking rack of lamb, Rick’s favorite, and was glad to be inside, away from the winter cold. He put Judith down for a nap, grabbed the groceries, and made his way to the kitchen. He started putting away the groceries when he saw Rick slide into one of the kitchen chairs out of the corner of his eye.

“I was thinkin’ of makin’ rack of lamb tonight if that’s ok with you. The butcher recommended this cut and I’ve been meanin’ to try out this recipe that Luanne gave me. Since it’s just you and me tonight, I figured we could go with something a little more sophisticated than usual. I got some red currants too which are great in-“

“Was this funny to you?” Rick interrupted. “Some kind experiment to see how regular folks slum it?” Baffled by Rick’s accusations, Daryl closed the refrigerator and turned to face an expressionless Rick.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

Rick waved a very familiar-looking manila envelope and a cold sweat enveloped Daryl. “It- uh, it’s not what you think.”

“Really?” Rick arched an eyebrow. “Because I went into your bedroom to turn off your alarm and found a check stub on the ground for more money than I will see in my entire life! So, I ask you again why?” Rick slapped the folder down on the kitchen table and approached Daryl.

Daryl finally understood what Carol had meant when she said Rick had an icy temper. “It’s uh, you see, I um…”

“I saw the royalties for Murphy MacManus Inc. Googled the name. Imagine my surprise to find out that my homeless, dirt-poor redneck neighbor is actually a famous artist with a net worth of several million dollars.” Rick’s had escalated to shouting by this point. Daryl couldn’t think of anything to say, his hands started to shake, and his heart rate rapidly increased. “Was all this a game to you? See how the peasants live? Did you get a taste for the simple life?”

“No, uh, god no, Rick it wasn’t about that.” Daryl’s voice was trembling and his palms were sweaty and despite Rick not even being two feet away from him, Daryl couldn’t bring himself to meet Rick’s eyes.

“THEN WHAT WAS IT ABOUT?” Rick screamed and with an open-hand smacked the wooden surface of the kitchen island, causing a loud booming sound to reverberate throughout the kitchen. Daryl reflexively pressed himself against the kitchen wall, sank down to his knees, and raised his hands in an effort to protect his head. This caused Rick to snap out of his rage and he cautiously approached Daryl and touched his shoulder. At Daryl’s corresponding flinch, Rick muttered something about needing air and all Daryl could hear over the pounding of his heart was the sound of the squad car’s pealing out of the driveway. It was just as well since Judith was crying.

__________

Rick drove aimlessly for a while. On the one hand, he couldn’t believe Daryl thought Rick was going to hit him. On the other hand, especially after the damage caused by Lori’s fabrications, he couldn’t believe that Daryl had lied to him about his situation. Things that had struck Rick as odd were suddenly making sense to him, such as: they ate way better than the $400 a month Rick allotted for groceries, when not puttering around at home Daryl dressed quite well, and toys and clothes, items Rick had not purchased, for both Judith and Carl kept appearing around the house. Rick had been so out of it with grief and rage at Lori that he had been all too happy to turn over the running the household to Daryl and had not questioned where Daryl got the money to pay for their enhanced lifestyle. He came back to himself and realized he was almost at Carol’s house. He had unconsciously sought out the one person who might be able to help him fix this whole mess. Fortunately Carol was home. She took one look at his face and ushered him to the kitchen where she made some tea. Rick didn’t immediately offer any information so Carol took the initiative.

“You going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Daryl lied to me.”

Carol frowned. “What do you mean?”

Rick took a sip of tea to fortify himself. “I mean exactly what I said. He lied to me. I stumbled across his tax return and found out that he is not only a famous artist in New York but also worth several million dollars!”

“Huh, well that explains it.”

“How can you be so calm about this? What d’ya mean?”

“At the Thanksgiving play I overheard one of the parents comment that the style of the background murals that Daryl painted reminded him of some famous paintings he had seen in New York. I dismissed it at the time but now it makes sense.”

“He knows how I feel about lying. How I feel about what Lori did.”

“Rick, did he actively lie to you or did you not ask the right questions?”

Rick thought back to when Daryl’s house was destroyed and Rick had offered up the spare room to him. Technically Daryl had never said he was poor, just that he was homeless. “A lie by omission is still a lie.”

“Agreed. But I’m having a hard time seeing what your problem is given the man takes care of your kids, takes care of your house, takes care of YOU and you don’t even pay him.”

When Carol put it like that, he could see the absurdity of his outrage. Rich sighed and put his head in his hands. “I really screwed up, didn’t I? I guess I just don’t understand why he’s doing all this for me, well, for us.”

“I have an idea but I think you’d better ask him.”

“I raised my voice at him, Carol. He thought I was going to hit him! How am I goin’ to talk to him now?”

“Just keep your distance and your voice low and even. If you feel like you’re losing your temper, call a time out and don’t re-engage until you’ve calmed down.”

“You know somethin’ about him that I don’t?”

“That’s not for me to tell you Rick. Now get on back home and talk to him now. Don’t let this fester overnight.”

_______________

Rick thanked her and drove back home. He found Judith asleep in her crib but Daryl was nowhere to be found inside the house. Rick eventually found Daryl on the back porch, baby monitor in one hand and cigarette in another. He hadn’t seen Daryl smoke since that night at the bar almost one year ago. Rick sat, arms-length distance away, on the railing and faced Daryl’s profile which was illuminated by the night sky.

Rick figured he may as well go first, “I apologize.”

“What for? I’m the one that lied to ya.” Daryl wouldn’t look at him.

“True but I overreacted. I want you to know that I would NEVER hit you. No matter how angry I get.” Daryl glanced over at him but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Truth is, I _need_ you. Far more than you need me. I guess I just don’t understand why you’re doing all of this for my family.”

“I ain’t never had a real family. Grandpa beat me, Grandma neglected me. I left home as soon as I turned 18 and never looked back. I guess I just wanted to experience for m’self what I was missing out on all those years. Oh and Rick- I grew up poor, below the federal poverty-line poor. We didn’t have enough money for food most days. I don’t call, what you have here, _slummin’ it_. ”

This made Rick incredibly sad and chagrined about his hasty words. “I want you to stay here as long as you like. Judith only wants you when she’s fussin’ and Carl and I would surely starve to death without you.” A small smile started to curve Daryl’s lips. “But there can’t be any secrets between us. What Lori did almost destroyed me. Is there anything else I should know about you? Heck, I’ve got no complaints. You feed us, participate in school events, clean the house, mow the lawn-“

“Yeah ‘bout that. I actually pay someone to maintain your yard and someone to clean the house.”

“You mean to tell me that I have a housekeeper and a gardener?” Rick laughed at Daryl’s sheepish expression.

Daryl finished his cigarette and finally looked Rick in the eye. “I don’t mind feedin’ y’all but I gotta draw the line at cleanin’ up after ya.”

Seeing that he was forgiven Rick tentatively asked, “so, is that offer of rack of lamb still on the table?”

__________

Interestingly, in the weeks post “the big reveal”, Daryl seemed to be even more comfortable around Rick. Rick supposed that since Daryl now knew that no matter what happened Rick wouldn’t physically harm him or kick him out of the house, Daryl unconsciously relaxed. It was kind of like a child testing limits with a parent, Rick mused, to see if there were any limits to unconditional love. And so _Operation: Seduce Daryl_ was back on. Rick still could not tell if Daryl was gay, straight, or asexual but he was fairly certain that Daryl liked him. Daryl would never make the first move- whether because he was shy or due to social awkwardness Rick was unsure. Rick debated and then rejected making any kind of “move” on Daryl and so instead he decided to slowly court the man, even if the man in question was unaware of it. Carol was surprisingly eager to help him in his mission and so offered to watch the kids while they were out.

Date #1 was “Art Night”, an evening of wine and replicating a moderately-easy painting as designated by the instructor. Rick fibbed and told Daryl that he had purchased a coupon to “Art Night” over a year ago to do with Lori and wouldn’t it be such a shame if the tickets were to go to waste and would Daryl mind going with him? Daryl, of course, not only replicated the target painting expertly (a pastoral scene of Japanese Cherry blossoms), but also improved upon it to the extent that the instructor asked him to show her a thing or two. He framed Daryl’s masterpiece and put it in the living room. Rick’s painting was….not so well-executed and ended up in the garage.

Date #2 was horse-back riding in the local national forest. Daryl had told him that he had ridden a few times when he was a kid but hadn’t been able to do so in New York. Rick was a terrible equestrian but figured he could probably survive an easy trail ride. Daryl had hit it off immediately with their guide and spent more time chatting up the salty old man than talking with Rick, but since it took all of Rick’s concentration to stay upright on his horse he didn’t mind. Date #2 was a great success…for Daryl. Rick was incredibly sore for two days afterwards.

They were just getting back from Date #3, a sushi-making class that Rick suggested after Daryl expressed interest in introducing more fish into their diet. It was towards the end of February and still cold at night- Daryl’s nose had turned bright red and his blue eyes seemed brighter than usual. After thanking Carol and Sophia for hanging out with Carl and Judith (Sophia and Carl had apparently advanced to Level 20 Paladins in whatever video game they had been playing), Daryl took over and put Judith to bed. Rick had tucked Carl into bed and roamed the house until he found Daryl wiping down the counters in the kitchen (Rick knew that Daryl would never tell dare to tell Carol that he found her clean-up skills to be lacking).

“Carl’s in bed.”

“Judith’s completely out. I don’t know what Carol does with her but whatever it is, it puts her right to sleep. Thanks for tonight- it was fun.”

Rick observed Daryl’s profile. He looked utterly relaxed and as happy as Rick had ever seen him. _Well, if there was ever a moment to make a move on his former neighbor, this was it._ Rick approached Daryl, who was bent over the sink rinsing out Judith’s sippee cups. Rick took a moment to take in the amusing scene of Daryl, wearing yellow dishwashing gloves, immersed elbow-deep in sudsy water.

Daryl, momentarily distracted by Rick’s approach, looked up from the sink and inquired, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Rick didn’t answer, he just cupped Daryl’s cheeks with both hands and leaned in to kiss him. Daryl tensed immediately, the position was awkward as Daryl still had both hands in the sink, but he eventually relaxed and so Rick took this as permission to deepen the kiss. The instant Rick’s tongue pushed pass Daryl’s lips, Daryl shoved Rick away from him, leaving soapy handprints on Rick’s flannel shirt. Rick backed away and saw that Daryl’s eyes were wide-open, pupils blown, and that he was breathing heavily.

“I’m, um, I’m sorry. I thought you were interested. I apologize, it won’t happen again.” Embarrassed, Rick quickly left the kitchen and ascended the stairs to the master bedroom. He couldn’t believe how poorly he had misread the situation. He could only hope that this incident wouldn’t jeopardize Daryl’s living with them.

__________

Daryl was shocked, utterly shocked. He could now see that the previous outings labeled as “get Daryl out of the house” were actually dates, although Rick hadn’t bothered to inform him of that. Now he had a decision to make- he could either pretend it never happened and have everything go back to normal tomorrow or….he could take a chance on this, on Rick, and see if he could actually have a relationship with another human being, a sexual relationship at that.

It wasn’t that Daryl was asexual or unaware of sex, heck he used to be part of the New York art scene, which was mildly pornographic, so it wasn’t like he was naïve or scandalized by the thought of sex. He just couldn’t equate “sex” with “Daryl Dixon”. He had tried to fantasize using famous actors or actresses, but the minute he imagined himself in the equation he couldn’t move forward with the fantasy. It was as if his brain saw his body as this sexless being- fully capable of observing others engaging in fornication (there was a period in his 20’s when he was really into drawn fantasy porn- girls on girls, boys on boys, tentacles, space aliens, you name it he’s seen it) but unable to participate in said events. He knew a psychologist would have a field day with this and probably equate his fear of intimacy with his crappy upbringing, but that didn’t help him now.

_What to do? What to do?_ Daryl paced back and forth in the kitchen. _Would it be so bad to try with Rick?_ Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine trying to have a sexual relationship with anybody else. Rick was handsome, wholesome, fiercely loyal, and stubborn enough to penetrate Daryl’s self-protective bubble ( _and penetrate other parts of me)_ that had kept him safe from potential suitors for over 20 years. Daryl could do worse. Decision made, he ascended the steps to Rick’s bedroom.

Rick, still dressed though he had removed his soapy flannel shirt and was left wearing a white undershirt, was lying on his bed reading a book. At Daryl’s entrance, he put his book down and gave Daryl his undivided attention. Daryl walked over to the window seat and sat down facing Rick.

“It’s, uh, it’s not that I’m not interested….” at this Daryl looked at Rick. Rick looked back at him, apparently not willing to interrupt. “Well, um, hmm….it’s like this. I, uh, hmmm…” Perhaps he should have given more thought on how to confess to his romantic pursuer that he was a virgin, as totally unlikely as that seemed.

Finally Rick took pity on him and interjected with, “Were you sexually abused?”

“No. I mean, my Grandpa beat me somethin’ awful but he never touched me sexually.”

Rick got up, walked to within a few steps in front of Daryl, leaned against the wall, and waited for Daryl to continue.

“It’s, uh, it’s just that I ain’t never, um, you know, done _that_ before-“

“So you’ve never had sex with a man?”

Daryl, flustered, looked down and realized that he would have to spell it out for Rick.

“I ain’t never had sex with nobody. That night, with you and the mistletoe was my first kiss. I never had the occasion to do more with anybody, man or woman.” Daryl glanced up, quickly, to see the expression on Rick’s face. Surprise wore off into confusion which turned into delight. Daryl was irritated. “Don’t you make any _40 Year Old Virgin_ jokes!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“So, what I’m saying is, I’m interested but I need you to go slow…real slow.”

Rick smiled and pulled Daryl into a standing position. Rick held both of his hands and caressed the inside of Daryl’s wrists with his thumbs. “You’ve waited this long…I can wait as long as you need to be comfortable with this, with me. And when you’re ready…I’ll make sure you won’t regret it.” Rick pulled Daryl into a tight hug that seemed to last forever but in reality only lasted a few seconds. Rick finally released him and asked, “May I kiss you good night?”

Words failed Daryl so he just nodded his head. Rick leaned in and kissed him sweetly and bid him good night. Later, once in bed, Daryl replayed the kiss over and over in his head and realized, with a touch of irony, that Merle, from beyond the grave, might finally achieve his 20+ year goal in getting Daryl laid.


	11. We do more than just sell delicious cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still alive.

Daryl was not exaggerating, Rick mused, when he had warned Rick that he would have to take it slow.  It was almost the middle of March and they hadn’t done more than PG13-rated kisses on the sofa in the family room.  They were both uncomfortable exploring this new facet of their relationship in front of Carl and mutually agreed to keep it their interactions “status quo” when Carl was around.  Fortunately for them, Carl was spending the evening at a friend’s house, Judith was sleeping for once, and so Rick was free to try out his very best moves on his former neighbor and current love interest. 

“Mmhhh….Rick,” moaned Daryl, deftly intercepting Rick’s hands and preventing them from touching skin.  They had polished off a bottle of wine between them and Rick had Daryl pressed into the sofa trying, and not succeeding, to run his hands up Daryl’s shirt in between kisses.  “Rick, ya gotta stop…Judith….” Rick kept him from saying anything further by deepening the kiss and pressing Daryl further back into the sofa.  Daryl repeatedly thumped his back in an attempt to get Rick’s attention since Judith’s crying had no effect.  Finally, he relented and allowed Daryl to come up for air.

“Lemme go see what Lil’ Asskicker wants….” Daryl patted Rick on the back consolingly and got up to take care of the baby.

Rick, utterly frustrated, pounded the back of the sofa and ran a hand through his hair.  _Lil’ Asskicker?  More like Lil’ Cockblocker!_   Rick figured this was as far as he would get with Daryl tonight so he cleared the wine glasses and started to clean up the kitchen.  He couldn’t really complain though at the outcome of the evening.  Make-out Session #5 yielded more data regarding Daryl’s erogenous zones: the sides of Daryl’s well-muscled pectorals were very sensitive and apparently a good place for Rick to keep his hands as opposed to Daryl’s lower-back, from which Daryl would tense immediately if Rick touched him there.  Rick filed away these hard-won nuggets of information for future reference.

Daryl joined Rick in the kitchen.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  When your girl wants something, she hollers!”

“Perhaps I should work out a schedule with her?”

Daryl scoffed and then stifled a yawn.

“Tired?”

“Yeah, a little bit.  I gotta get up early tomorrow and take inventory of supplies for the Scout’s trip.”

“Scout’s trip?”

“Yeah, I told you about this weeks ago.  You said you put in for time off.  Y’know, the wilderness Scout’s trip I’m chaperoning with Otis and Carol.”

“Otis?”

Daryl smacked Rick’s arm.  Rick grabbed his hand and imprisoned him within the circle of his arms.

“Yeah, the local Scoutmaster. Don’t you pay attention when I tell you about these things?”  Rick vaguely recalled putting in for time off this week but he thought that was so he could spend time with Daryl and the baby. 

“Was football on?”

Sighing, Daryl proceeded to remind Rick that he had volunteered to be an additional adult on the Scout’s trip to the local mountains during Spring Break trip.  Now Rick remembered and was disappointed.  “But I thought you an’ me were gonna have adult quality time with Carl out of the house?”  If he wasn’t so irritated, he would have found Daryl’s tomato-red face to be endearing.

“Yeah, I know.  But it’s been a long time since I’ve been in the woods.  Plus, once Carol found out that I know a thing or two about wilderness survival, she was intent on me comin’.”  Rick cursed Carol and pouted.  It must have had some effect as Daryl then volunteered, “How ‘bout I make it up to ya?  How ‘bout you and me take a trip somewhere the weekend after the trip?  Carol owes me big time for this and she can watch the kids.”

 _A whole weekend with Daryl and no kids?_   He may have to thank Carol after all.

__________

Daryl finished taking inventory of all the gear the Troop would need for their week in the woods.  Carol and Otis were making the final calls to all the parents reminding them that drop-off time at the school was 8am sharp.  Daryl was extremely excited.  He had purchased a new sleeping bag at REI as well as some fancy orienteering equipment.  It was doubtful that he would get lost, like that time when he was a kid, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“How’s it going over there?”

Daryl was startled out of his reverie and turned to acknowledge Carol.  “All equipment present and accounted for.  Where’d Otis go?”

“He went home already.  He tried to say good night to you but you were in deep communication with the tent poles.”

Daryl chuckled.  “I’m just excited is all.”

“I can see that.  And how does Rick feel about having five days with the baby all to himself?”

“He ain’t thrilled, I mean he don’t mind the baby, he just forgot that I was coming with y’all and uh, ahem,” Daryl cleared his throat, “he thought we were getting ‘quality time’ together”.  Carol smiled knowingly.  “Wipe that smirk off your face.  I promised him a getaway weekend with no kids and YOU’RE the one babysitting.”  Carol laughed.

“I have no problem with that.  I guess I owe it to Rick for interrupting his well-earned time with you.”

Daryl grimaced.  “I, ah, we, um, haven’t um, haven’t actually been able to, uh, do much…”

Carol reached over and tilted his chin up in order to meet his gaze.  “Rick won’t rush you Daryl, he’s a good man so take all the time you need….”

Daryl did not dispute that Rick was indeed a good man.  But even good men expected to get laid eventually.

__________

Rick, with Judith on his hip, watched the school bus pull out of the parking lot with some melancholy and a not inconsiderable amount of trepidation for the coming week.

“Well Judy, looks like you’re stuck with your old man.”  She had fussed all morning and Rick wondered how difficult she was going to be once she realized that Daryl had left her for more than just a few hours.  Rick sighed.

A voice greeted him.  He turned around and saw Bob Stookey.

“Already going through Daryl withdrawal?” Bob snickered.  At Rick’s death glare he clapped Rick on the shoulder and countered with, “I know the feeling.  Come on man, let’s go grab some breakfast at this diner I know nearby!”

“Is that what you and Daryl usually do?

“Heck no!  I took Daryl once and watched him push his eggs around for an hour.  But I’m not as discriminating as Daryl is and neither are you so we’re going to take advantage of this golden opportunity to enjoy crappy diner food!”

It was going to be a long week.

__________

The Scouts had made good time getting to the mountains, which was fortunate as Otis had run out of “games” and the natives were getting restless.  In addition to Otis, Carol, and Daryl, another adult chaperone named Amy had joined them.  Daryl sat next to her on the bus trip and learned that she attended the local University and was studying for her Bachelors in Education.  She had been a summer intern previously at Harrison Middle School and was invited on the trip by Carol as she was writing a paper on the benefits of exposing children to the great outdoors.  Mid-week the group would be joined by her older sister, who apparently was a fly fishing, deep sea fishing, ice fishing, all kinds of fishing enthusiast and who would be demonstrating her skills to the kids.

Daryl finished setting up his tent and was helping Amy with hers when Carol rushed up to him with a worried expression.

“Have you seen Sophia?” she asked.

Daryl squinted up at her from his position of staking the tent.  It was just past noon and quite warm despite it being early spring.  “Ain’t she with Carl?”

“No, he hasn’t seen her either.  Daryl, I’m worried.  She has no sense of direction and tends to day dream and not pay attention to her surroundings.”

“Ok, ok, don’t you worry.  We’ll find her.  Otis and Amy can stay here.”

Carol took an audibly deep breath.  “Thanks Daryl- you’re right.  She probably just lost track of time.”

They covered the perimeter rather quickly, Daryl looking for tracks and Carol calling out for Sophia.  Daryl was pretty sure they would find her fairly quickly.  Two hours later, he was forced to revise his outlook.

“SOPHIA!  SOPHIA!” called out Carol, for probably the hundredth time.

“Look, um, Carol – why don’t you head back to camp?  I know a thing or two about following tracks but this would be a lot easier if I didn’t have to keep track of you too.”

“Sophia is not like some deer Daryl!  When’s the last time you went hunting?  20-25 years ago?!”  Daryl was a little surprised at how completely unwound Carol was becoming.  Then again, he would feel the same way if Judith were missing.  He mentally added _wilderness survival skills_ just below _kickboxing_ on the list of things he was going to teach his little girl when she got older.

“This ain’t productive.  We need to go back to camp.  You need to rest and I need to look at maps.  No arguing.”  Without waiting for Carol’s response, Daryl turned back to camp.  He was a little rusty at tracking but he had survived, totally lost, for several days in the woods when he was nine.  Then again, he had been made of sterner stuff than Sophia.

__________

Rick stole a french fry from Bob, swirled it in gravy, and brought it to his lips.  He had ordered the “Country Skillet” which comprised of eggs, sausage, and hash browns.  Bob had ordered a cheeseburger (“what Sasha doesn’t know can’t hurt me”) even though it was just past 9am. 

“Man that hits the spot!”  Bob polished off his 2nd cup of coffee and sat back in his seat.  The diner was mostly populated with the senior citizen brigade at this time in the morning but they had been able to snag a booth by a window to enjoy some late winter/early spring sun.  Rick was trying to feed Judith some of his eggs- most of which ended up on the floor and not in her mouth.

“So, what do you and Daryl do during _manly bonding_ time?” asked Rick.

Bob laughed.  “Well, we usually go for a run or spar in my garage but mostly Daryl keeps me out of trouble when I can’t get ahold of my AA sponsor.  He’s even gone to some meetings with me.”  At Rick’s puzzled expression, Bob elaborated, “I’ve been sober 5 years.  Didn’t he- didn’t Daryl tell you about any of this?”

Rick shook his head.  “Nah, he never mentioned any of it.  I had no idea.”

“Well he probably wanted to respect my privacy.  It’s not exactly a secret but Sasha is pretty sensitive about it.  You see, I used to be a practicing physician as well.  General practice.  I had been hitting the bottle pretty regularly for years, but my drinking didn’t really escalate until Sasha was pregnant with our second child.  We used to have a shared practice and, well, one evening Sasha came to the office after hours and found me passed out on the floor in a pool of my own vomit.  Fortunately I didn’t have alcohol poisoning and she was able to get me hydrated and conscious.  But it was a near thing and she was furious.”  Here Bob stopped and looked out the window.  Rick didn’t know what to say, Bob was the last person he would have expected to be an alcoholic.

“She was furious at me for jeopardizing our medical practice and jeopardizing my life.  And you know, she was right.  If anyone else had found me, if I had been intoxicated in public or during office hours, I could have had my medical license suspended.  She threatened to leave me if I didn’t get my act cleaned up and one of her conditions was that I stop practicing medicine immediately.  She said I owed it to her and to our patients to get sober.  And so I did.  And that’s how I became Mr. Mom by day and peer-reviewed medical essayist by night.”

Now Rick finally understood what Sasha was talking about when she had pulled him aside at the holiday party.  “Thank you for sharing this with me Bob.  It takes a lot of courage to admit your mistakes.”

“Yeah well, Daryl’s been a big help to me.  Sometimes when I’m at home and Sasha’s at work and the kids are at school I still, you know, get the urge.  He usually makes me work out with him and by the time we’re done, I’m too sore to even think about drinking!”

Rick smiled and fell in love with Daryl all over again.

__________

Armed with maps, a GPS device, and plenty of water and snacks, Daryl ventured out into the woods for his best guess of where he would find Sophia.  He had about 2 more hours of daylight and even though he had a head lamp, finding Sophia would be significantly harder in the dark.  Upon reviewing the map of the campground and surrounding forest, Daryl was able to narrow-down the number of possibilities to three general areas.  He was going to have to move fast.  Earlier when he searched with Carol, he had picked up her tracks immediately east of the camp but they suddenly disappeared near a small waterfall.  Daryl figured that was as good as any of a place to start and quickly headed back to the secluded area.

__________

Meanwhile, back at camp, Carol was a complete mess.  Otis was on the satellite phone with the park ranger, trying to get some assistance. 

“Yes sir, I understand.  But we have a young girl here who is lost in the woods and- I see.  Alright, I’ll call back in one hour.”

Carol rushed up to Otis.  “What did the Ranger say?”

“He said he can’t involve state police until it’s been 24 hours.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“I know, but he said he would come to the campsite with his German shepherd and help with the search.”

Carol just shook her head and stormed off.

“Isn’t she over-reacting a bit?” asked Amy, who had joined Otis by the satellite phone.  “I mean, Daryl’s out there.  He’ll find her.”

“Let’s just say Carol has reason to be overprotective of Sophia.”

“Daryl will find her.  Just you wait and see.”

__________

It was just after sundown and Daryl had finally found some fresh tracks that could belong to a small girl.  As far as he could tell, it looked like Sophia had decided to go it alone on one of the interpretative nature trails near the camp.  He had found her tracks leaving the trail but they completely disappeared at the top of a small canyon.  Seeing no other possibility, he descended into the canyon throughout which ran a small stream.

At the bottom of the canyon, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled “SOPHIA!  SOPHIA!”

“Daryl?” a faint voice cried out.

“Sophia?!  Where are you honey?”

“Over here.  By the cave.  I hurt my leg.”

Daryl scanned the surroundings with the aid of his flashlight and saw a small rocky alcove sheltering a very frightened young girl.  Daryl rushed to her and assessed the damage.

“I wanted to catch this pretty butterfly but I fell and hurt my leg!  It hurts and I was so scared that no one would even know that I was gone!”

“Shhh….it’s gonna be alright.  I’m here and I’m gonna take you back to camp now.  How about a piggy back ride?”

__________

Back at camp, Carol was verbally berating the park ranger.

“I don’t care what your policy is!  My girl is out there, LOST, in the woods and you and your dog are just standing around doing nothing!  Shall I make you a cup of cocoa so you can be more comfortable, doing nothing?!”  Carol inquired, condescendingly.  

“Ma’am, your daughter is lost, another member of your group is now lost looking for her, I fail to see how-“

A disembodied voice interrupted them.  “We ain’t lost.  Just took the scenic route, is all.”  Daryl strolled into the camp with Sophia in tow. 

“Mommy!”  Sophia struggled to disembark from Daryl’s shoulders.

“Careful now,” Daryl handed Sophia over to a desperately eager Carol, “I think her ankle is sprained.”

Carol brushed the hair from her daughters forehead and said “Baby girl, don’t ever do that to me again!”

“I’m sorry Mommy.  I was really scared but Daryl found me!  So it’s ok, you can stop crying now.”

Carol hadn’t even realized that she had started crying.  With a look of undying gratitude targeted at Daryl, she tried to stifle her sobs in her daughter’s hair while Amy tried to splint Sophia’s leg.

__________

It was only Wednesday. 

2.5 more days to go. 

Rick wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

The baby had finally realized Monday evening that Daryl was not going to be back and proceeded to make Rick’s life hell.  She refused to eat, refused to bathe, refused to do anything besides scream her displeasure.  They had reached a détente yesterday and instead of screaming she had just thrown her food and toys at Rick.  Thankfully today she had quite an appetite at breakfast and so she had fallen into the baby equivalent of a food coma.  The house was blissfully silent.  Rick retrieved the boxes of Lori’s things that he had banished to the attic when the accident happened and was methodically going through them deciding what to keep.  Even with everything that had happened, it wasn’t like he could deny her existence.  She was the mother of his child(ren) and his anger at her had mostly diminished.  He decided to restore the family photo albums to the den and put out some framed family pictures of her, Rick, and Carl.  He wanted to burn every single photo with Shane in it but possibly someday (hopefully never) he may have to explain Judith’s parentage to her and it didn’t seem right to erase Shane either.  As he was reminiscing, he realized that he hadn’t been to Lori’s grave since the funeral.  Worse, he hadn’t taken his kids to her grave either.  A voice appeared in his head, sounding strangely like his grief counselor, admonishing him to “not deny the past”.  Well, it wasn’t like he and the baby had anything else planned for that day and it was time for her to wake from her nap anyhow.

Rick grabbed all of the baby accoutrements and a sleepy Judith and headed to the Cemetery.  On his way there he stopped by a local florist.  Roses with baby’s breath were Lori’s favorite flowers so Rick bought a dozen he could leave at the grave.  When he got to the grave site, he saw an assortment of toy soldiers and some wildflowers already on the gravestone.  Puzzled, Rick put down the baby carrier to consider this mystery further.

“Hi there!  You must be Rick?” asked an older gentleman who came out of nowhere and, judging by his uniform, seemed to be the graveyard keeper.

“Uh, yes.  Yes sir.  I’m Rick Grimes.  Nice to meet you.”  Rick shook his hand.

“Mark Graves.”  At Rick’s raised eyebrow he elaborated, “Yup!  That’s really my name.  I was destined for this job.  Anyhow, good to see you around here.  And how’s little Judy doing?”  He bent over to peak in the baby carrier and tickle Judith’s stomach.  She seemed to recognize him and giggled back in response.  He straightened up and faced Rick.  “Well, it’s good to finally meet you.  I’ll leave you alone to pay your respects.  If you need anything, I’ll be in the tool shed immediately west of here.”

As Rick watched the man leave, he realized exactly who had brought his children to visit their mother’s grave.  At the funeral, there had been some debate amongst Lori’s family members as to whether or not Carl should be present at the burial.  Rick, in a moment of lucidity, fought hard for Carl to attend thinking that it would help his son with the grieving process and provide closure.  He hadn’t thought past the funeral, but he was glad that Daryl found time to bring the kids.  His wife may have been a liar and a cheater but she didn’t deserve to be forgotten.

“You know, I was furious with you for a long time.”  The words came out of his mouth, unbidden.  Rick took a quick survey of the Cemetery- fortunately it was just him and Judith.  He felt ridiculous but also liberated enough to continue.

“Ah heck Lori, where did we go wrong?!  I mean, I get it.  Kinda.  I wasn’t there, Shane was.  You were scared.  But you should’ve….you should’ve had more faith in me!  I came back!  And you could’ve told me about the baby- we would’ve worked something out.  But lying, continuing to cheat behind my back?  I thought you were better than that.”  Rick stopped, slightly out of breath.  He ran his hands through his hair and fiddled with his wedding ring.  “You know, I still can’t take this damn ring off!  I KEPT my vows!  I’m still keepin’ ‘em and what about you?  I’m not in a coma for more than a few months and you go shack up with MY BEST FRIEND!  Oh don’t give me THAT look!  As soon as I’m done here, I’m gonna go find his grave AND PISS ON IT!” 

The baby started crying.  Rick hurried over to her, released her from the carrier and tried to calm her down.  “Now, now.  Shhhhhh…..I’m not really going to piss on Shane’s grave.  I was just….working out my issues…..like Dale said to….and now, here I am, talking to myself, by my dead wife’s gravesite with the child she had with my best friend.”  Judith laughed.  Rick laughed too.  “When I say it out loud like that, it sounds like a Lifetime movie.  Or a country western song.”  Rick chuckled.  Judith starting chewing on his shirt, which meant she was ready to eat.

Rick secured Judith in the baby carrier and arranged the roses next to the wildflowers.  “Alright Lori, we gotta go.  Good talk.  Let’s do it again next week.”  And with that declaration, Rick grabbed the baby carrier and made his way over to the car with a load off his shoulders and a spring in his step.  Dale was right, he needed to stop denying the past.  But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to piss on Shane’s grave at some future date!

__________

 “Alright kids, you all fail at wilderness survival- ‘cept for Patrick.”  Everyone, except for a somewhat nerdy looking kid with thick black-framed glasses, groaned.  “Don’t give me that!  You all failed Map reading 101 so we’re gonna institute the buddy system for the duration of this trip- ‘cept for Patrick.  Patrick knows how to use a compass so he can go where he wants.”  The aforementioned “Patrick” beamed.  Daryl saw that a pretty blonde woman had joined the group and sat next to Amy.  Judging by her blonde hair and friendly demeanor he assumed it was Andrea, Amy’s big sister and fishmonger extraordinaire.  The kids were going to spend the afternoon with her and Amy learning how to tie knots and hopefully catch the some fish for dinner. 

“Ok kids, it’s time for you to learn how to live off the land.”

A small boy with bright red hair raised his hand and without waiting to be called on inquired, “Does that mean you’re finally going to teach us how to hunt?”

“Nope, you’re gonna learn how to fish”.

There were some groans and another girl, Jenny?, loudly complained that “fishing is SO boring!”.

Daryl inwardly sighed and racked his brain trying to think of a way to make this activity more exciting to the kids.  But he needn’t have worried- Andrea came to his rescue.  She stood up, dusted off her clothes and moved to the front to address the group. 

“Hi Kids!  My name is Miss Andrea and I’m going to teach you how to fish and we’re going to have a great time.  You wanna know why?  Amy and I are going to teach you how to SPEAR FISH.”  All of the kids cheered and clapped their hands. 

Daryl revised his initial assessment of Andrea- this chick was crazy!

__________

Several hours later Daryl conceded that Andrea was a genius, perhaps an evil genius but a genius nonetheless.  The “spears” were actually PVC pipes.  Apparently this wasn’t Andrea’s first time teaching fishing to reluctant pupils because after they splashed around in the river trying to “spear” fish, they were much more willing to learn how to convert their “spears” into poles and attach fishing lines.  It didn’t hurt that Andrea gained major street cred by showing the kids that she could catch fish with her bare hands.  Daryl was going to have to ask her to show him how to do it.  It was presently “free time” before dinner and Daryl had climbed up to the top of a hill that overlooked the lake adjacent to the campground.  He took in a deep lungful of the fresh, pine-scented mountain air and spotted Amy and Andrea in a canoe, floating in the center of the lake.  He hoped they caught some fish for dinner since the kids had done such a miserable job of it earlier.  Daryl took his sketchbook out and worked on capturing the idyllic surroundings- he had mainly done portraiture as MMM and was now trying to expand his skill set to include landscapes.

“Mind if I join ya?”  He heard a rustling of leaves and saw Carl peak his head out from the bushes.

“Sure little man.  C’mon over.”

Carl sat down and peered over Daryl’s arm at Daryl’s notebook.  “Amy sure is pretty, doncha’ think?”

Absorbed in trying to get Andrea’s straw hat at the right angle, Daryl distractedly responded “She’s a bit old for ya, doncha’ think?”

“Hmmm, I suppose so.  Well, what do you think about Andrea?  She’s pretty AND she can catch fish with her bare hands!”

“Yup, if the zombie apocalypse happens I wanna hang out with her.”

“Well, she’s your age right?  Why don’t you ask her out?”

Still distracted, Daryl muttered “Nah she ain’t my type.”

“Really?  But you could go on hunting and fishing trips with her!” 

“Yup, could do that.  But then who would take care of your Dad and your sister?”

“I could take care of them.”

Daryl snorted and ruffled Carl’s hair.  “No you couldn’t.  Remember the one time I asked you for help with the laundry?”  Carl had put bubble bath instead of detergent into the washing machine claiming that he thought it would make the clothes smell better.  Daryl was just grateful that the washing machine was in the basement and not in the house- it took him and Rick hours to clean up all of the bubbles.

Carl threw his arms around Daryl’s neck.  “Of course you have to bring up the ONE time I messed up.” 

“Remember the time I asked you to take the pot roast out when the timer went off but you didn’t hear it over the TV and-“

Carl put his hands over Daryl’s mouth.  “Now you’re just rubbing it in.”

“I’m just sayin’ man, not sure you guys would last long without me”, Daryl mumbled around Carl’s fingers.  The wind started to pick up and Daryl took a moment to enjoy the cool air and the melodic whistling of pine trees swaying in the breeze. 

“Daryl?” 

“Yeah Carl.”  Daryl had moved on to watercolors and was trying to determine if the blue of the lake was more of an azure blue or more of a cerulean blue. 

“Are you going to marry my Dad?”

Daryl choked a bit, put down his paint brush and moved Carl to stand in front of him.

“What makes you think that, Carl?

“Well, it’s just that I’ve never seen Dad so happy with anyone.  Anyone ‘sides Mom that is.  And Jenny has two dads and she seems pretty happy so I just thought it would be neat if you married Dad.”

 _Gotta love kid logic_ , Daryl thought.  It was almost pure in its simplicity.  “Well Carl, I’m not sure your Dad is ready to marry anybody right now let alone me.  It’s a big decision for your Father, who to marry and introduce to the family an’ whatnot, plus it’s hard to, uh, find quality spouses out there but I’m sure once Rick, your Dad, finds someone, ahem, I’m sure he’ll consult you or maybe ask for yours and Judy’s permission so I wouldn’t really worry ‘bout it right now if I was you.”

Carl put both hands on each of Daryl’s shoulders, forcing Daryl to look up at him.  “Ok Daryl, when Dad asks me if he can marry you I will be sure to give him my approval.”  Carl gave Daryl a salute and a poor attempt of a “manly” pat on the back and ran back to camp.

How had this become his life?

__________

Later that night, after a tasty dinner of trout caught by Andrea and Amy and seasoned by Daryl, the kids gathered around the camp fire while the counselors took turns telling “scary” stories.  Amy and Otis were currently re-enacting a sordid tale involving a serial killer preying upon poor, innocent hitchhikers.  Amy was giving an unnervingly good performance as the serial killer.

Daryl had his sketchbook open, illuminated by a powerful LED lantern.  Andrea sat down next to him and handed him a plate of s’mores.

“C’mon have some s’mores,” she said in between mouthfuls of the gooey treat.  Daryl looked at the plate dubiously.  “These are the adult s’mores.  I soaked the marshmallows in bourbon.”

Daryl was definitely hanging out with Andrea during the zombie apocalypse.  He took one and shoved the entire thing in his mouth- no way was he going to get marshmallow in his beard!  Andrea took his notebook with a “do you mind?” and immediately started flipping through it.

“These are really good!”

“Thanks, it’s just somethin’ I do in my spare time.”

“I mean these are really, really good.  Who’s that?”  Andrea was pointing at Michonne.  The sketch in question was from the Christmas party and it featured Michonne and Rick in front of their Christmas tree.  Michonne had intertwined gold tinsel in her braids and was wearing a backless red dress.

“That’s Michonne.  The man standing next to her is Carl’s Dad.  They’re Sherriff’s deputies.”

“She’s gorgeous.”  Sensing that perhaps she was transfixed by the sketch for longer than maybe was appropriate, Andrea continued with “Well the composition of this sketch is phenomenal.  I can see you observed the Rule of Thirds: the tension of her body in relation to the man’s, the Christmas tree in the background for balance, and the blood red of her dress to create interest.  Absolutely stunning.”

Daryl didn’t think it was all that great but he learned a long time ago there was no accounting for taste in the art world.  “You can keep it.”   

“Really?  Thank you.”  She tore it out of his notebook and carefully put it in the satchel she was carrying.

“No problem, glad someone likes my doodles.”

“You ever sell any of your work?”

Daryl bit back a grimace.  _Oh lady, if you only knew._   “Nah, it’s just a hobby.”

“Well if you ever decide to sell something, let me know.  I own _Andrea’s Art Gallery_ in Atlanta, or AAG for short.  It’s a small gallery for now but I’m just getting started.  I used to be an Intellectual Property lawyer but being at an arms-length distance from the artists I represented wasn’t what I really wanted to do with my life.  It’s much more rewarding to represent artists and showcase their work.  Anyhow, I’m always on the lookout for new talent so feel free to bring by some paintings next time you are in Atlanta!”

“Thanks, uh, I’ll keep that in mind for when I go pro.”

“Well, I’ve got to help Amy get the kids in bed.  Nice chatting with you Daryl and thanks for the drawing.”  She gave Daryl a warm smile and quickly and authoritatively ordered the children to their tents.  Daryl hadn’t done much, ok _any,_ painting since he had moved in with the Grimes’.  It was the longest stretch of time since he had started drawing that he wasn’t producing anything consistently- heck, there were days were he didn’t even do so much as a sketch!  He idly wondered if that part of his life was over now.  For as long as he could remember, art was what he lived for.  He hadn’t cared about anything or anybody else.  Yet now, living with the Grimes family, he felt more content and more satisfied than he could ever recall being in his life.

__________

It was Friday afternoon.  FINALLY.  Rick had spent the morning listening to Michonne’s disastrous blind date, _she was so pretentious Rick!  She ate her veggie pizza with a knife and fork and ordered champagne!_ , and now Rick was hanging out at the school parking lot with the other parents, eagerly waiting for the Scouts to return.  Rick had enjoyed spending time with Judy and getting some chores done around the house but he couldn’t wait to eat one of Daryl’s home-cooked meals and get some “alone time”.  He was contemplating how far he could embellish the past week’s difficulties in order to get Daryl to spoil him when the school bus pulled up.  Lori had never fallen for his crap but Daryl wasn’t on to him yet.  The school bus doors opened and a sea of the future Scouts of America flooded out.  He quickly located Carl and waved at him with his free hand.

“Dad!”  Carl ran to him and gave him a big hug/tackle.  Rick was seriously thinking about enrolling him in flag football.

“How was the trip?”

“It was AWESOME!  I learned how to make a tent and Sophia got lost but it was OK because Daryl found her and Miss Andrea taught us how to spear fish and Miss Amy told us really SCARY stories and it was AWESOME!”

 _Spear fishing?_   It appeared that Scout leaders had stepped up their game since he had attended dull scouting trips as a youth.  Daryl finally emerged from the bus with their duffel bags.  He was mildly sunburnt, unshaven, and looked like a hardcore survivalist/doomsday prepper.  Rick was so turned on.

“So I heard you rescued Sophia, wrestled bears, and helped a doe deliver a baby.”  Rick jokingly greeted Daryl.

“You didn’t tell me you wrestled any bears!”  Carl accused Daryl. 

Daryl strolled up to Rick and relieved him of Judith, who had been dozing on Rick’s shoulder.  Once she realized to whom she had been pawned off to, she screamed “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrr” and repeatedly tried to bite him.

“Shush, sweetheart.  I’m back now.”  Daryl rocked her back and forth until she calmed down. 

“Does that count as her first word?” Rick inquired.

“Nah, she’s got a few more months to go.”  Daryl secured her in her car seat and took the passenger’s side.  Rick started the minivan and pulled out of the school parking lot. 

“Well, I’m glad you guys had a good time.”

“So, how did it go while I was gone?” Daryl tentatively asked.

Rick inwardly smirked.  Oh, he was going to milk this for all it was worth!

 


End file.
